


More Precious Than Silver

by Bad_Faery



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 124,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Faery/pseuds/Bad_Faery
Summary: Hiring Belle French is either the best or the worst decision Mr. Gold ever made.  Either way, there are some things his new shop assistant doesn't need to know about him.Like the fact that he's a virgin.





	1. Prologue

Gold grumbled under his breath at the sound of his doorbell.  It had been an interminable day.  His leg was aching, foretelling snow tomorrow, and whoever was foolish enough to bother him at home in order to make a deal was going to find himself facing steep terms indeed.  He was in no mood to be generous with fools.

“Trick or treat!”  

Gold blinked as he opened his front door to find a small girl with a gap-toothed smile wearing a blue dress with a white apron holding out a bag.  Behind her stood a woman wearing a tailored red jacket that she’d paired with a blue bow tie and a very short white skirt, an oversized pocket watch hanging around her neck and fluffy bunny ears holding back her tumbling chestnut curls.

Oh hell, that was tonight.

The rabbit-woman—Jefferson’s sister, Belle, Gold identified—was new in town, but that was no excuse.  Everyone knew that Mr. Gold didn’t participate in the extortion racket known as trick or treating.  Children shouldn’t be rewarded for begging like vagrants, and the subsequent sugar high resulted in nothing but delinquent behavior.  If he had his way, Halloween would be stricken from the calendar, but although he ruled Storybrooke, the rest of the world hadn’t quite caught up.

Neither, apparently, had Belle French.  

“Go away,” he snapped.

Belle giggled like he’d told a joke, the sound cutting off when he started to slam the door in her face.  “Whoa!  What do you think you’re doing?”

Gold glared down at the high-heeled foot that had insinuated itself between door and frame.  “Don’t make me call the sheriff to have you removed.”

The little girl’s face crumpled at his threat, but instead of escorting her niece away to more welcoming environs, Belle glared at him like he was doing something wrong.

“Grace, I lost one of my earrings, could you check the front walk for it?” she asked, and the little girl scuttled away.

A tiny diamond stud glittered in each of her earlobes, catching Gold's eye when Belle leaned closer.  “My niece is painfully shy.  It took me two weeks to convince her to go trick-or-treating because she needs more practice interacting with people.  This is our first house, and you are _not_ going to ruin this night for her.”

“You chose poorly, Miss French.  Anyone in town could tell you that.  I do not participate in this irritating so-called holiday, and I would thank you to remove yourself and your niece from my property.”  

“Your light was on!”  Belle’s eyes flashed outrage at him.

“Why should I extinguish my light and provide a convenient cover of darkness for juvenile delinquents to play their empty-headed pranks when everyone in Storybrooke knows better than to bother me?”  She was in the wrong, not him, and Gold took grim pleasure in reminding her of that.

To his annoyance, Belle made no move to remove her foot.  “According to the customs of trick-or-treating, one signals participation by leaving his porch light on.  Anyone who does not wish to participate turns his light off.   I don’t care what everyone knows.   _You_ are the one who broke the rules.”

Anyone who could pedantically argue the rules of trick-or-treating like she was presenting a case in court went up a notch in Gold’s esteem.  He would play her game.  Folding his hands on the handle of his cane, he raised an eyebrow.  “And how do you propose to punish my infraction?  Is public flogging traditional or would you prefer the guillotine?”

Belle’s mouth twitched.  “Worse.  I’m going to tell everyone we see tonight that Mr. Gold is giving out king size candy bars.  Have fun dealing with the fallout from _that_.”

She was good, he had to give her that.  If she started that rumor, he’d be besieged, and if he didn’t distribute the expected booty, the resulting pranks would take forever to clean up.  He wouldn’t be the one doing the cleaning, of course, but it would still be a royal pain in the ass to have his home bedecked by toilet paper and rotten eggs.

It had been a long time since anyone had dared to stand up to him and longer still since someone had actually won.  To Gold's surprise, it sent a thrill through him.  Belle French was going to be a welcome addition to Storybrooke.  “Give me a moment.”

By the time he retreated to the kitchen and returned, Grace was once again framed in the open door.  “Trick or treat?” she asked in a small voice.

Her eyes lit up when he tossed a box of designer chocolate truffles into her bag.  They’d be wasted on a child, of course, but perhaps Belle would help herself to one.  The thought of her lips folding around a piece of candy he’d provided for her made Gold’s cold heart stutter in his chest.

“And for you.”  With a flourish, he extended a business card to Belle who took it with a wary look.

“In case you ever find yourself in need of a job,” he explained.  “A mind like yours would be an asset to my business.”

Belle studied him for a long moment before her lips quirked in something that looked like a genuine smile.  “I might just take you up on that.”

She nudged her niece.  “Say thank you, Gracie.”

“Thank you!” the girl chirped and turned away, ready to tackle the next house on the lane.

Gold stood in the open door and watched them go.  As Belle turned onto the main sidewalk, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at him, looking unsurprised to see him still watching her.  Hesitantly, Gold waved, and his stomach curled when Belle’s hand lifted in response.

Halloween might just be his new favorite holiday.


	2. Chapter 2

“Put that down this instant.”

To Gold’s displeasure, Belle French made no move to comply with his demand.  Instead, she ignored him completely as she carefully added a small green vase to the display she was creating in his shop’s front window.

Gold glared at the display and at the back of the woman who had turned her attention from the vase to a china owl.  Belle had gathered every bit of green glassware in the shop and was in the process of arranging it on a set of round tiered shelves.  The bottom shelf was the largest, the circumference of each circle shrinking in proportion to its height, making the entire display resemble nothing so much as a green glass cone.

Not a cone, a tree, Gold realized as he looked again.  The glassware was interspersed with other random pieces that were clearly meant to be evocative of ornaments on a Christmas tree.  He’d assumed that when he firmly rejected Belle’s suggestion that they get a tree for the shop, it had been the end of the discussion.  He’d been a fool to underestimate his assistant.

He’d been a fool to hire her in the first place.  Even a month later, he wasn’t quite sure what had come over him.  On Halloween night, he’d been so charmed by her pedantic lecture about the rules of treat-or-treating that he’d offered her his card and a job.  It had been such a pleasant surprise to meet someone who wasn’t afraid to stand up to him that he hadn’t given a thought to what it would be like to have to argue with that same someone every day of his life.

Belle French was _impossible_.

In the five weeks she’d worked for him, she’d moved everything in the shop, destroying his careful system of organization.  He couldn’t find _anything_.  Next, she’d installed a computer system and single-handedly dragged his operations into the twenty-first century.  No longer did his tenants pay their rent in cash on the first of every month.  Now, they had the option to pay via credit card and never actually lay eyes on their landlord.  

Even with Belle’s salary, Gold’s bank account had never been healthier.

Thanks to Belle, he had a website now— a damned _website_.  Someone on the other side of the country that he’d never even spoken to had purchased the pair of hideous marionettes that had been hanging opposite the cash register for the past two decades.  Gold couldn’t say that he missed the figures, but it felt odd to be in the shop without their eyes following him.  To add insult to injury, Belle had added a picture of him to the website, claiming that the shot he hadn’t noticed her taking made him look mysterious and Byronic.  As far as Gold was concerned, it just made him look like a prat, but she’d refused to remove it.

This wasn’t at all what he’d envisioned when he offered her a job.  Even though he paid her salary, Belle never listened to a single word he said, and Gold was starting to wonder just which one of them was actually in charge.

“Get down,” he snapped as she climbed into the window display next to her ‘tree’.

Belle shot him an exasperated look over her shoulder.  "Has the word 'please’ ever crossed your lips?“

"No.”  

She hadn’t bothered to take off her impractical heels before climbing into the window to adjust her work, and Gold could clearly envision her falling backwards and cracking her head open on the floor of the shop like an egg.  No doubt, she would sue once she came out of her coma.  Worse, she was the only one who knew how to use the computer system since he’d refused to allow her to teach him.  

He was protecting his business, Gold told himself as he moved to stand behind her and planted his feet firmly, ready to catch her when she fell.  

“Please hand me the star.”  Her voice rang with sweetness, mocking him.  

“Get down and put those things back where you found them.”  

“It’s _Christmas_ ,” Belle reminded him with exaggerated patience.  "This is a _shop_.  Christmas makes people want to buy things.  If we make a token effort to participate in the holiday, your profits will increase.“

She held out an imperious hand.  "Star please.”

Gold knew his assistant well enough to recognize that she wasn’t going to give up.  If he didn’t hand her the star, she’d simply hop down and grab it herself before climbing back into the window, increasing the odds that she’d break her neck.  

With a smothered sigh, he handed her the star.  

“There we go!”  Belle placed the star carefully on the tiny shelf at the very top, completing her tree.  "Isn’t that pretty?“

Once both of her feet were again firmly planted on the ground, Gold stepped back and considered the display.  "That’s not the word I would choose.  Garish and tacky, perhaps.”

Belle made a rude noise as she brushed past him to move deeper into the shop.  "Oh, what a surprise.  It seems I’ve found yet another holiday that Mr. Gold doesn’t approve of.“

She hopped up to sit on the counter, her legs swinging.  For just an instant, Gold’s eyes were drawn to the expanse of thigh bared by her short skirt before he forced his gaze back to her challenging stare.

"You’ve made your feelings on Halloween very clear.  Something about children not being rewarded for begging like vagrants?  And when I invited you to Thanksgiving dinner, you declined, informing me that— despite your wealth, good health, beautiful home, and _brilliant_ shop assistant— you had nothing to be thankful for.  So, why does Mr. Gold hate Christmas?  Should I try to guess?”

Gold wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or chagrined that Belle seemed to remember every word he said.  Apparently, she’d been listening after all.  To cover his confusion, he waved a languid hand.  "Have at it.  Since you know me so well.“

"Hmm…” Belle crossed her legs as she considered the question, and Gold was careful not to notice the way the hem of her skirt slipped even higher.

“Children should not be raised to expect some omnipotent spirit to simply grant all of their wishes.  If they want something, they should work to earn it and learn the value of a dollar.”  Belle delivered her pronouncement in her best approximation of a Scottish accent.  "And the adults are no better, wasting the rent money on frivolities like presents and parties.“

She _did_ know him well.  Gold sniffed haughtily, not sure how to feel about that.  

Belle smirked at his reaction.  "Did I miss any key points of your argument, Ebenezer Gold?”

“Simply that it’s disingenuous to preach peace on Earth and goodwill toward men in a world that thrives on conflict.  Throwing a handful of change into a bucket won’t make the slightest bit of difference in anyone’s life beyond making the giver feel good about themselves one day per year.”  

Belle tilted her head to the side as she considered his words.  "But how much better would the world be if we all tried to show a little Christmas charity and cheer all year round?“

Gold snorted at the thought.  "You’re young.  When you get to be my age, you’ll realize that will never happen.”

“Oh yes, you’re a wizened old man, you are.”  Belle rolled her eyes and hopped off the counter.  "Are you going to help me put up the rest of the decorations or are you too decrepit?“

"You’ve already done more than enough decorating.”  

Once again, Belle ignored him as she opened a tote she’d stashed behind the counter and withdrew a string of colored lights.  When, exactly, did he lose all control over what happened in his shop?  It was his name on the sign, not hers.

Since outright forbidding her to decorate was getting him nowhere, Gold opted for passive resistance instead, studiously ignoring her struggle to untangle the lights and hang them where she wanted them.  If she planned to turn his shop into a holiday nightmare, she’d get no help from him.

The lights _did_ look rather attractive once she’d plugged them in.  They highlighted the merchandise that Belle had dusted and polished, bringing new life to the old pieces.  

Gold mentally slapped himself upside the head once he realized what he was thinking.

“And now for the _pièce de résistance_!” Belle announced as she pulled a sphere of greenery out of her bag.

Horror filled Gold when he realized what he was looking at.  "Is that mistletoe?“

"It’s traditional.”  Belle dragged a chair to the middle of the room and climbed onto it so she could attach the kissing ball to the light fixture.  The light filtered through the greenery, creating an odd pattern of shadows.

“No.”

Belle made a triumphant noise as she finished hanging the ball and jumped off the chair.  "If you don’t like it, don’t look up.“

He could only imagine the rumors that would spread if she left the mistletoe where it was.  People would gossip that Mr. Gold was trying to seduce his shop assistant, laughing behind their hands at the idea that a beautiful young woman like Belle would ever give the time of day to the likes of him.  

"I mean it.  Take it down.”

“If you want it down, take it down yourself.”  Belle folded her arms across her chest as she stared him down.  "It’s going to increase foot traffic.  It gives people a reason to come into the shop, and once they’re in here, they’ll buy something.“

He would rather sell nothing at all for the next month if it meant not having to look at the mistletoe, and if Belle wouldn’t take it down, he’d do it himself.

Meaning to do just that, he stalked over to Belle, taken aback when she grinned impishly up at him.  "Why, Mr. Gold!  We’re standing under the mistletoe!”

“What—?” he began, turning his head to look down at her at the exact moment Belle leaned up to kiss his cheek.  Their mouths collided, Belle’s lower lip slipping between his parted ones.

Gold froze, wondering if he was imagining the slight increase of pressure of Belle’s mouth against his.  Before he could be sure, Belle broke away, her color high.  "I guess it works,“ she murmured.  "Good to know.”

He’d come over here for a reason, but at the moment, Gold didn’t have the slightest idea what it had been.  On unsteady legs, he stumbled toward the back room.  "I have work to do,“ he said brusquely, his voice not sounding like his at all.

It was an accident, he told himself as he drew the curtain behind him, shielding himself from Belle’s sight.  She’d meant to kiss his cheek, not his lips, and that had been intended for a joke.  It was just an accident.

Gold lifted his hand to his lips, still feeling the imprint of Belle’s mouth against his.  His eyes slipped closed as he relived the moment.  Accident or not, it had been… lovely to have her lips pressed against his, and he could feel his face heating.

He’d just received his very first kiss.

He was being a fool, he told himself harshly as he lowered his hand.  If Belle could see him mooning around and blushing like a schoolboy over an accidental brush of lips, she would laugh herself sick.  No doubt she would laugh even harder if she knew that her lips were the first ones he’d ever tasted.

He’d never planned to reach the age of fifty-one without knowing the touch of a woman’s lips.  As a young man, Gold had expected his life to progress along the usual path: he would find a woman he could love and respect, marry her, father children, and live comfortably with his family the way that men did the world over.  He hadn’t planned to live like a monk.  It had just… happened.

In his quest to not follow his father’s example, he’d gone to the opposite extreme.  Malcolm Gold had left a trail of broken promises, shattered hearts, and, no doubt, bastard children behind him as he cut a swath through Scotland.  To his father, sex was nothing more than a casual amusement, and even finding one of his by-blows abandoned on his doorstep had barely slowed him down.  Malcolm had shoved his son’s care off on a pair of spinster aunts while he bedded woman after woman with reckless abandon, and if it hadn’t been for the steadying influence of his aunties, the younger Gold might easily have followed in his father’s footsteps.

Instead, by the time Gold was old enough to notice the endless parade through his father’s bedroom, he’d vowed that his life was going to follow a different path.  To him, sex _meant_ something.  It was an act to be shared only with the woman who would be his partner in life.  When he met Milah, he thought he’d found that woman, but he’d been terribly mistaken.

He’d been terribly mistaken about a lot of things.

There was no point in thinking about such things.  His past was what it was, and there was no changing it now.  To distract himself, Gold concentrated on the noise Belle was making on the other side of the curtain.  The dragging of chairs mixed with the jingle of sleigh bells, and he tried not to imagine what she was doing to his quiet, elegant shop.  

Eventually the bells stopped jingling, giving way to an ominous silence.  Gold gave the curtain an uneasy glance, assuring himself that if Belle had managed to fall and crack her head open, he would have heard _something_.  No, she was still out there, probably plotting something that involved fake snow and animatronic elves.

"You’ve been holding out on me!” a cheerful voice accused from the front of the shop.

Confident that he’d shoved the accidental kiss and all of the memories it had provoked to the back of his mind, Gold stepped through the curtain to face his accuser, freezing at the sight that met his eyes.

Belle stood behind the counter, a wooden box at her elbow.  Gold watched, numb with horror, as she lifted a Christmas pyramid from the box and placed it on the glass in front of her, giving the rotor a spin with gentle fingers.  

“Leave that alone.”

Belle glanced up at him with a smile.  "This is gorgeous!  Why didn’t you tell me you had one of these?“

"I said leave it alone,” Gold snarled, feeling too unsteady to move.  He hadn’t seen that pyramid in more than two decades, and he’d almost managed to forget that it existed.

As was her wont, Belle ignored his command.  "What else is in here?“ she asked as she returned her attention to the box.

When Gold tried to take a breath, his lungs failed him, refusing to accept any oxygen.  His teeth were chattering like he was freezing as Belle reached into the box again, her face alight with eager curiosity.

"A ceramic Santa… a reindeer… that’s cute…”  She lifted each object out to display it on the counter, and Gold’s head swam as he tried not to look at them, unable to bear the memories.

“Stop.”  It wasn’t even a whisper, just a desperate rush of breath.

“What’s this?”  

From this angle, Gold couldn’t see the front of the yellowed paper Belle was holding, but he didn’t need to.  His mind supplied every detail that his eyes were missing— the primitive Christmas tree drawn in crayon.  The large, tortured letters carefully spelling out _To Papa from–_

_“Don’t touch that!”_

If his voice before had barely been a whisper, now it was a roar.  Belle jerked her head up, her eyes wide as she looked at him, and Gold could only imagine what she was seeing.  His face burned, and he could feel sweat dripping down the side of his neck.  His chest was working like a bellows, but he couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his lungs, leaving him feeling light-headed and half-sick.

Immediately, Belle replaced the homemade Christmas card in the box before hurrying around the counter, grabbing her climbing chair on the way.  "Sit down.“

It went against all of his instincts to obey her, but Gold found himself folding into the chair the moment it was behind him, his knees refusing to support him for another second.  Nimble fingers loosened his tie and undid the first two buttons on his shirt, enabling him to take a full breath.  He sucked in air, and as Belle crouched in front of him, his mind started to clear.

"I’m sorry.”

When he looked up, Belle’s face was only inches from his own.  "I didn’t mean to pry.  The things in that box are very personal, aren’t they?“

Too exhausted to dissemble, Gold nodded.  Having someone else see the contents of that box was not unlike being seen naked.  Hell, he probably would have preferred her to walk in on him in the shower.  Having her see his bare skin would be less humiliating than showing her his bare soul.

It was a relief when she stood up and moved away.  Gold watched Belle carefully replace the items in the box before closing it.  "I found it in the basement,” she explained as she worked.  "I thought it was just surplus inventory.  I didn’t realize it was important.“

"I told you to leave it alone,” he said with some asperity.  If she’d listened to him, all of this could have been avoided.

“Yes, but you say that about everything.  We need a code word or something so I can tell when you actually _mean_ it.”  Belle placed the box beneath the counter, hiding it from his sight.

Now that the box was no longer in his field of vision, torturing him with the memories of a little boy he’d loved so dearly and lost too soon, Gold started to feel more like himself.  "I have a better idea.  Why don’t you just do what I tell you?“

Belle made a rude noise as she came around the counter.  "Oh please.  And deny you of one of your only pleasures in life?”

When he raised his eyebrows in inquiry, Belle leaned back against the counter and gave him a challenging look.  "In the month I’ve known you, I’ve learned that there are exactly two things in life you enjoy.  One— ice cream.  Two— arguing with me.“

When Gold opened his mouth to argue with her, the corner of Belle’s mouth turned up in a smug smile, and he realized he would only be proving her point.  The woman was impossible.  He didn’t _enjoy_ arguing with her.  It was simply a byproduct of their clashing personalities and her refusal to yield gracefully to his wisdom and experience.  It wasn’t like he spent his leisure hours holding imaginary debates with her.  

Well, at least he didn’t do it _daily_.

It was entirely possible that Belle had a valid point, but he’d be damned if he let her know that.  "I also enjoy cheesecake.”

She nodded.  "I’ll add that to the list.“

The two of them held each other’s gaze for a long moment, and Gold realized that the ground once again felt solid beneath his feet.  Five minutes ago, he’d been on the verge of falling apart, but Belle had pulled him away from the edge so adroitly that he hadn’t even realized that she was doing it.

Impossible or not, he’d been right about her.  She was indeed an asset.

Belle let her smile fade.  "Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”  There were things his shop assistant didn’t need to know about him.  Actually, there were a great many things she didn’t need to know.

She accepted his refusal without argument, which might have been a first.  "Should I take the rest of the decorations down?“

Twinkling lights and tiny jingle bells adorned every shelf in the shop, creating a festive atmosphere that still managed to be tasteful.  The kissing ball was garish and would no doubt provoke gossip, but it wasn’t actually doing any harm.  He would just have to be careful to avoid it.  

It would hardly be a productive use of Belle’s time to spend half the day putting up decorations only to spend the other half taking them back down again.  At this point, Gold wasn’t entirely sure what he was paying her for, but surely she could find something better to do with herself this afternoon than undoing all of her handiwork.

He could feel his knee complain as he pushed himself to his feet.  "Leave them.  I’ll get used to it.”

In two quick steps, Belle was in front of him, her eyes shining as she did up his buttons and straightened his tie.  Gold held himself stock-still, his nerves hyperaware of her nearness even though her fingers didn’t so much as brush his skin.

“There,” she murmured as she let her hands fall.  For some reason, she didn’t step back.  "Back to normal.“

"Aye,” Gold agreed, aware that it wasn’t quite true.  Something was different now.  Had someone put a gun to his head, he wouldn’t have been able to put into words just what the difference was, but the fact remained that _something_ was different.

“Well,” he said, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet shop.  "Back to work.“

It wasn’t until he forced himself to step away from Belle that she moved, returning to her position behind the counter.  For some reason, Gold found himself lifting his hand to touch his lips, and he quickly aborted the movement, hoping that she hadn’t noticed.

"Back to work,” Belle echoed, her eyes warm.

Gold shook his head as he once again retreated to the safety of the back room.  Belle French was impossible, but somehow he didn’t feel as dreadful as he usually did after he allowed himself to think about the little boy he’d lost.

Perhaps tomorrow he would allow her to teach him to use the computer.


	3. Chapter 3

At the sound of the bell, Gold lifted his head and lowered his newspaper just in time to make eye contact with the small girl who was stepping through the door.  When she saw him looking at her, the child froze, her eyes going wide.

He’d met Belle’s niece twice— three times if he counted Halloween night— and even though he’d made an effort to be pleasant, the little girl continued to look at him like he was the monster under the bed.  Naturally she’d chosen to drop by the shop at the one time that her aunt wasn’t there to mediate.  With Belle down the street at the bank, things were likely to get quite awkward quite quickly.

Gold returned his attention to his newspaper as he greeted the child in a monotone.  "Hello, Grace.“

The little girl scuttled a little closer to the counter he was sitting behind.  "Is… is Aunt Belle here?”

“She went to the bank.”  Aware that the child was still staring at him, Gold relented and continued, “She’ll be back in a bit.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grace fidget with the bag she was holding.  "I brought her sweater.“

Inwardly, he heaved a sigh of relief.  The child had been tasked with bringing Belle something that she’d forgotten.  This was a situation that he could handle.

Gold extended his hand across the counter for the bag.  "I’ll give it to her when she gets back.”

Instead of handing him the package, Grace clutched it to her chest and took a step backward, her expression stating clearly that she trusted him to do no such thing.  Well then, fine.  If the girl was convinced that he’d throw the sweater in the trash or set it on fire if she handed it over, there wasn’t much else he could do here.  He’d tried.

Swallowing his irritation, Gold attempted to be gracious.  "You can sit if you want to wait for her.“

Keeping her eyes on him, Grace sat down on the chair he’d gestured at, her back ramrod straight as though she was sitting for a portrait.  The girl looked miserable for no reason that Gold could fathom, and any attempt he made to put her at ease was probably doomed to failure.  

Thoughts rose in his mind of another child.  If it was Bae in front of him, the boy would have already attempted to stand on his head on the chair before darting off to look at, touch, break, and ask questions about everything he could reach.  In comparison, Grace was easier to manage but far less entertaining.

When he looked at the girl, she swallowed with an audible gulp, and Gold gave up.  If she wanted to sit like a statue while she waited for Belle, so be it.  He returned his attention to his newspaper, ignoring her as hard as he could.

When the bell above the door jangled to herald Belle’s arrival, Gold wasn’t sure who was more relieved— him or Grace.  

"I brought your sweater,” Grace announced the moment Belle stepped through the door, stealing a glance at Gold as though she expected him to contradict her.

“Thanks, Gracie.  Why are you sitting there like that?  Don’t you want to look around?”  Belle took the bag from her niece and gave Gold a questioning look as she placed it on the counter.

Whatever she was asking, he didn’t have an answer for her.  Grace, on the other hand, did.  "He told me to sit.“

The girl had either misunderstood or was purposefully trying to make him look like he’d been unwelcoming, and Gold wasn’t sure which explanation he favored.  Before he could correct her, Belle glared at him.

Keeping him pinned with her narrow gaze, Belle spoke to her niece.  "Well, that wasn’t very nice of him, was it?  Come on.  Let’s go next door and we’ll get ice cream.”

Considering the way she was looking at him, asking her to bring him back a cone seemed like a dreadful idea.  Annoyed with both aunt and niece, Gold once again buried his nose in his newspaper, refusing to acknowledge either of them as they left the shop.  

He skimmed the articles, unable to concentrate on anything except his own righteous indignation.  He wasn’t the one who’d encouraged Grace to drop by the shop, but he’d been pleasant to her.  He’d been polite to the child during every encounter they’d had, save for the first one, and the forty dollar box of truffles he’d dropped into her treat bag on Halloween night should have made up for his attempt to slam the door in her face.  

He’d behaved well today.  What more did Belle expect from him?  Was he supposed to do a song and dance number to amuse the girl?

Gold stewed in silence until Belle returned sans Grace. By angling the newspaper, he was able to watch her hang her coat on the peg near the door with more force than necessary before flipping the sign in the window to indicate that they were closed.  For added emphasis, she locked the door before turning to face him.

A blue sprinkle clung to the corner of her mouth, and an insane part of Gold’s mind that hadn’t gotten the memo that he was annoyed with her wondered what it would be like to lick it off.  He’d been avoiding the mistletoe for the past two weeks to make sure there was no chance of a reprise of their accidental kiss, but not a day went by that he didn’t think of it, no matter how hard he tried not to.

One look at Belle’s furious eyes dispelled any such fanciful notions.  "So, is there a _reason_ you put my niece in the naughty chair like she’s a toddler on time out or is that how you treat every child who dares step into your shop?“

_That_ was unfair.  Tossing his newspaper aside, Gold rose to defend himself.  "It was a suggestion, not a command.  I told her that she could sit while she waited for you.  At no point did I tell her that she _had_ to.”

“She’s eight!” Belle snapped.  "She’s shy, and she’s scared to death of you.  If she thinks you’re telling her to do something, she’s not going to argue with you.  She’s going to do it and hope you don’t yell at her.“

"I have been nothing but pleasant to your niece,” he reminded her.  Halloween didn’t count.

“So your definition of pleasant is ‘coldly formal and polite while avoiding the other person as much as possible’?  I’ll file that away for later.”  Belle folded her arms across her chest as she stared him down.

She wasn’t entirely wrong, Gold admitted to himself.  Any skill he’d ever had with children he'd lost decades ago, and he had no desire to rediscover it.  Why should he?  Grace was nothing more to him than his shop assistant’s niece.  There was no point in fostering a relationship with a child he had no real connection to.  Nothing good ever came of that.

“It is not my fault that your niece misconstrued my words.”  On that fact, he was resolute.  He hadn’t shouted at the girl or threatened her or given her so much as a forbidding look.  If Grace wanted to be afraid of him, that was her business.  

Belle stalked over to the chair Grace had been sitting on and kicked one leg with the toe of her shoe.  "And it never occurred to you to say 'You know, you can look around if you want to’?  It was obvious that she was miserable sitting there.  It was radiating off of her.  It would have taken you two seconds to fix it, and you couldn’t be bothered.“  

This was getting ridiculous.  "You’re speaking as though I tied her up and threatened her with a cattle prod.  The girl sat quietly in a chair for five minutes.  I hardly think this incident will scar her for life.”

Belle flung her hands into the air as if he’d said something particularly stupid.  "You just don’t get it, do you?  I’m trying to teach her that she doesn’t have to be afraid of people.  I want her to know that if she’s kind to others, they will be kind to her.“

Gold snorted.  "You’re doing her no favors by teaching her fairy tales.  People are selfish, self-serving, and callous.  A kind person is nothing more than a target for a cruel universe.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”  Belle shook her head in wonder.  "What _happened_ to you?“

All of her anger seemed to have fled, and Gold fidgeted with the handle of his cane as Belle looked at him like he was a specimen under a microscope.  "I don’t follow.”

“Nobody is born that cynical.  Something happened to you.  Something made you this way.”  

When she stepped closer, Gold picked up his newspaper, the thin paper providing a psychological shield more than a physical one.  "I suppose that, to naive eyes, wisdom looks a great deal like cynicism.“

With a sigh, Belle turned to lean back against the counter, staring blindly up at the mistletoe ball.  Gold, relieved to be done with the conversation, resumed his seat and went back to his reading.

He was halfway through an article about Sheriff Graham’s reelection when Belle spoke again.  "This is about the stuff in the box, isn’t it?”

She was too clever for her own good.

The newspaper made a crunching sound as his fingers tightened convulsively, betraying him.  For the past two weeks, Belle hadn’t so much as referenced the box she’d found in the shop’s basement, and Gold had appreciated her discretion.  Apparently, she’d just been waiting for an opportune moment to bring it back up.

Without looking away from the newsprint his eyes could no longer decipher, Gold spoke between clenched teeth.  "My past is not your concern.“

"No, it isn’t,” Belle agreed, surprising him.  

She turned to face him directly.  "I have no right to pry into your personal life.  But when it starts to affect my niece, it _becomes_ my concern.  Am I supposed to tell Grace never to visit me at work because I can’t trust you to be kind to her?  What kind of a message does that send?“

As far as Gold was concerned, that sounded like a perfectly reasonable solution.  If Belle didn’t trust him around the girl, Grace could simply avoid the shop.  It wasn’t as though the child had any reason to be here in the first place.  He was running an antique shop, not a daycare.

Careful to keep his voice calm, Gold pointed out, "You are overreacting.  I was not unkind to your niece.  It was a simple misunderstanding that you’re making far too much of.”

Belle shook her head as she leaned her hands on the counter.  "It was a little thing, but to a child, little things can be _big_ things.  She did something brave by coming in here and talking to you, and you made her feel like she did something wrong.  How much harder will it be for her to be brave next time?“

"She brought you a sweater.  She didn’t slay a dragon.”  

As always, Belle contradicted him.  "She started a conversation with someone who scares her.  That’s a big deal.“  

That was the second time Belle had referenced Grace being afraid of him, and Gold was starting to take offense.  "I have given your niece no reason to fear me.”

Belle rolled her eyes.  "Right.  Because there’s nothing scary about a guy dressed all in black stalking the streets with a perpetual scowl on his face.  I don’t know what you see when you look in your mirror, but to Grace, you’re practically a Disney villain.  And you say she has no reason to fear you?  Don’t you know _anything_ about children?“

Her words cut sharper than a blade, and Belle winced at whatever she saw in his expression.  "Sorry.  That was kind of a rotten thing to say.”

Gold took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.  "It’s nothing.“

"Is it?”  When Belle hopped up to sit on the counter next to her sweater, he carefully avoided looking at her as she swung her legs around so that she was facing him.

“I know it’s none of my business,” she began, her voice earnest.  "But it does affect me.  If nothing else, if you tell me what happened maybe I’ll stop blundering into things and making you feel worse by accident.“

She sounded genuinely concerned, and Gold took a moment to appreciate it.  It was a novel experience to have someone who cared about his feelings.

"You don’t owe me any kind of explanation, so I’m asking as a friend.  Will you tell me the story of the things in that box?”

Her words gave him pause.  Belle had just referred to herself as his friend, and Gold could honestly say that such an idea had never occurred to him.  He wasn’t the sort of man who had friends.  He’d certainly never thought about Belle in those terms.  She was his shop assistant and a perpetual thorn in his side, albeit a thorn who’d given him his very first kiss.

The sprinkle was still clinging to the corner of her mouth.

With effort, he forced himself to look away.  "There isn’t much to tell.“  

"There was a child,” Belle prompted.  "A… son?“

He managed half a nod, aware that he was lying, at least by omission.  Bae _wasn’t_ his son.  He’d had nothing at all to do with the boy’s conception.  Yet, what else could he call the child that he’d raised from birth?  Bae had been his son in every way that mattered even though Gold hadn’t been the one who fathered him.

"Did he…?”  Belle bit her lip, knocking the sprinkle loose.  "Did he… pass away?“

Her voice was hushed, and for the first time, Gold wondered how all of this looked from her point of view.  Belle’s clever mind had probably been working on this mystery for weeks, and it was clear that she’d formed a tentative hypothesis.

Whatever story she’d concocted in her head was unlikely to be correct if she thought Bae was dead.  Or maybe it wasn’t.  For all he knew, Bae could have died years ago.  It wasn’t as though Milah would contact him to let him know.  

It was a sickening thought, so Gold tried not to think about it.  He had no reason to believe that Bae was anything except alive and well, so that was what he would believe.  He’d rather not live in a world that didn’t have Bae in it somewhere.

"No.  Really, it’s a very mundane story, one that’s been told a thousand times.  His mother met someone else and decided I was superfluous.  I haven’t seen him since he was five years old.”  He could sum up the central tragedy of his life in two sentences.  There was something terrible in how prosaic misery could be.

Belle’s brow furrowed.  "She got full custody?  You didn’t even get visitation?“

"I sued for custody.  I lost.”  Realistically, Gold had known that he never stood a chance, but it had still been a blow.  He wasn’t Bae’s biological father and Milah hadn’t allowed him to adopt the boy, so as far as the law was concerned, he had as many rights as a stranger off the streets.  He’d raised Bae almost single-handedly for five years, but in court, biology trumped all.  

He’d been Bae’s papa in every way except the one that mattered most, and that had cost him everything.

Belle shook her head.  "That’s _horrible_.  I’m so sorry.“  

"It was a long time ago.”  

“But it still hurts,” she said, her eyes so full of sympathy that he couldn’t look at her.

“So, he’s grown now?” she asked when it became obvious that Gold wasn’t going to say anything more.  "Have you tried to find him?  Maybe you could hire a private investigator.  I know it’s not the same as raising him, but it’s never too late to rebuild a relationship.“

"I doubt that he even remembers me.”  His voice was harsher than he’d intended it to be, but Belle didn’t flinch.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Children don’t form lasting memories until they’re seven.”  He’d read that factoid in a psychology magazine years ago, and it had been burned indelibly into his brain ever since.  He might like to imagine that his boy remembered his papa, but science said otherwise.

Belle made a rude noise.  "Bullshit.“

"Excuse me?”  In all of their arguments, he’d never heard her swear.

“My mother used to tuck me in at night.  She’d arrange all of my stuffed animals just so, read me a story, and sing a song.  I still know all the words.”  

It was a sweet memory, but Gold had no idea how it was relevant to this conversation.  "That’s very nice.“

"My mother died when I was four.”

Gold winced.  "I’m sorry,“ he said automatically.

"I _remember_ that,” Belle told him, her voice fierce.

It was more likely that she’d invented the memories based on pictures she’d been shown and stories she’d been told.  If Jefferson or her father had told her about the bedtime ritual, she could have created a fantasy that over the years had crystalized into a memory.  She remembered an ideal of her mother tucking her in, not the actual event.

Somehow, Gold couldn’t bring himself to tell her that.  If Belle thought she remembered her mother, it would be the height of cruelty to disillusion her.  

“Even if you’re correct, it doesn’t matter.  I haven’t seen Bae in almost thirty years.  There’s no point in invading his life in an attempt to relive the past.  He has a father, and it’s not me.”  Hopefully Killian had been a good father to Bae because Milah had certainly never been much of a mother.  It hurt to imagine his boy calling another man Papa, but if Bae had been happy, nothing else mattered.

Belle regarded him carefully for a long moment.  "I won’t argue with you.“

Gold wondered if he was imagining the ’ _for now_ ’ he could hear dangling unspoken at the end of that sentence.  "That’s a novel approach.  Are you feeling unwell?” he asked waspishly.

The toe of a high-heeled shoe prodded his thigh in silent rebuke.  "At least now I understand why you hate holidays and don’t like kids.“

When he glanced up at her, she elaborated, "Because they remind you of your son.”

To his surprise, Gold realized that she was correct.  Somehow, he’d never put those two things together.  His shop assistant could read him like a book, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  "I suppose.“

"I expect you to be _nice_ to Grace,” Belle informed him, pointing an emphatic finger at his chest.  "Properly nice, not just polite.  But if it bothers you to be around her, I can do my best to make sure you two usually aren’t in the same place at the same time.“

It was more of a concession than he’d expected her to make.  Actually, Gold decided as he considered her offer, it was extremely thoughtful of her to suggest such a thing.  Still, her concern was unwarranted.  He wasn’t so fragile as to be reduced to an emotional wreck by an eight year old girl.  "That won’t be necessary.  I can be… nice.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” Belle said, her voice dry.

Gold leaned back in his chair with a sigh of exasperation.  He was doing his best.  "What do you want from me?“

A small smile played at the corner of Belle’s mouth as she studied him for a long moment.  "For the moment, I’ll take a begrudging nice.  Maybe by Valentine’s Day we can work on smiling.”

Just the thought of that ridiculous holiday made him shudder.  "Valentine’s Day is a meaningless commercial racket designed to wring money out of miserable people who need an annual reminder to pretend that they like each other.  It’s hardly a reason to smile.“

Belle chuckled at his diatribe.  "Well, we’re part of that commercial racket, so we’ll make the best of it.”

If Belle decided to bedeck the shop in pink glitter and cupids, Gold wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.  "If you tack up a single pink heart, you’re fired.“

She looked supremely unconcerned by the threat.  "Don’t borrow trouble.  Anyway, we have to get through Christmas first.”

At his groan, she laughed aloud and gave him another prod with her shoe.  "Oh, stop it.  If you can stop being a miserable grouch for five minutes, I might be persuaded to buy you an ice cream cone.“

"I make no promises.”

Belle swung her legs gently.  "Well, maybe I’ll buy you one anyway.  You earned it.“

At his uncomprehending look, she smiled at him.  "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about your son.”

Gold cleared his throat.  There was nothing challenging or accusatory in Belle’s gaze, just something soft and warm that made him feel acutely uncomfortable.  As often as he mentally cursed his headstrong assistant, he thought he might prefer arguing with her to whatever was happening between them now.  He knew how to argue.  This quiet camaraderie had him utterly out of his depth.

Fortunately, Belle took pity on him and hopped down from the counter.  "What flavor do you want?“

"Surprise me.”  He was surrendering an unprecedented amount of power, but somehow he trusted that Belle would bring him something that he would like.  

Some devil prompted him to add, “And I want sprinkles.”

Belle stared at him, dumbfounded.  "Sprinkles.“

"Sprinkles,” Gold said firmly, relishing her pole-axed expression.  It felt good to be the one to catch _her_ off balance for a change.

“Sprinkles,” Belle agreed, a delighted smile blooming on her face.  "You just keep unfolding like a flower.“

For an instant, he nearly returned her smile before he regained control of himself.  It was only after Belle shrugged on her coat and left the shop that he allowed his lips to twitch.  After that conversation, sprinkles were exactly what he needed, preferably blue ones.

It was strange.  He’d always assumed that talking about Bae would be unpleasant— a painful reminder of everything he’d lost.  Instead, just the little he’d told Belle had lightened his soul.  Perhaps some day he would tell her about how much Bae had enjoyed playing with that ceramic reindeer.  Maybe on another day even farther in the future, he could show her the Christmas card his boy had made for him.

It had been years since he’d allowed himself to think about Bae, but Belle had changed that just like she’d changed everything else in the shop.  Maybe, just maybe, change wasn’t as dreadful as he thought.

As the bell over the door jangled to announce Belle’s return, Gold pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.  Later, he could worry about what it meant that he was getting used to having his shop assistant turn his life inside out.

For now there was ice cream.  With sprinkles.


	4. Chapter 4

Gold hummed to himself as he unlocked the door of the shop and stepped inside.  Once the door was closed behind him, blocking out the sound of the street and the rush of wind, the sound of his own voice echoed in the still space, calling his attention to what he was doing.

Mortified, Gold immediately ceased humming, thankful that Belle was nowhere to be found.  If his shop assistant caught him humming a Christmas song, he would _never_ hear the end of it.

They’d been waging a battle over music for the past week.  He’d told her in no uncertain terms that he preferred silence, and Belle had paid absolutely no attention and started playing Christmas songs, insisting that the music would improve the shop’s ambiance, and therefore, their sales.

At first, it had been almost tolerable.  She’d chosen soft, instrumental versions of old standards that he could largely ignore.  However, as the week passed, she’d turned up the volume in every possible way.  If “The Holly and the Ivy” was acceptable, “Holly Jolly Christmas” was less so, and “Jingle Bell Rock” and that song with the Chipmunks were a nightmare.  

Worse, he’d just caught himself humming “Jingle Bell Rock.”  Not only would Belle be completely insufferable if she ever found out, but if he let this new habit develop unchecked, one day he would find himself _whistling_ , and then he would have no choice but to beat himself to death with his own cane.

Despite the music, Gold couldn’t, in good conscience, say that the holiday season was going badly.  The shop was always busy in December, and this year was busier than ever, not that he would ever admit to Belle that she’d been correct about her “improvements”.  As far as he was concerned, the increased foot traffic wasn’t necessarily something to celebrate.  More customers meant more money, yes, but also more work, and Gold already had enough money for ten lifetimes.  This year, however, he also had Belle, and there was something pleasant about working side by side with her, the pair of them moving effortlessly around each other behind the counter like they were participating in a dance, the steps of which were engrained on their souls.  

For Gold, whose days often dragged into tedious eternity, time passed faster with Belle.  If a pocket of inactivity cropped up, she was always happy to fill it with a question for him or a story of her own.  She was impossible, but she was never boring.

She’d instituted daily ice cream breaks for the both of them, claiming that they needed the calories to keep up their strength for dealing with customers.  Prior to Belle’s arrival in his life, Gold had allowed himself one small ice cream cone per week, usually vanilla, although he occasionally indulged in chocolate if the mood struck him.  In this, as in everything else, Belle had turned his careful routine upside down.  

Really, it was his own fault.  In a moment of weakness, Gold had given Belle permission to surprise him with the flavor of her choice— so long as it came with sprinkles— and when he’d eaten the peanut butter fudge cone she’d handed him without complaint, the power had clearly gone to Belle’s head.  Now she didn’t even bother to ask what he wanted before leaving the shop for the ice cream parlor, and so far this week, he’d had a peppermint sundae with crushed candy canes on top, a butter brickle milkshake, and a chocolate chip cookie dough cone with three cherries wedged into the top scoop.  His taste buds were enjoying the variety, but if she meant for this to be a daily habit after the holiday season ended, he wasn’t going to be able to fasten his trousers.

Gold’s mouth watered as he wondered what Belle would surprise him with today, and he shook his head at himself in disgust.  At his age, the highlight of his day shouldn’t be sitting around eating ice cream cones with his shop assistant.  He wasn’t quite sure what the highlight of his day _should_ be, but he was certain that it shouldn’t involve Belle at all.  It was undignified.

The bell above the door rang cheerfully, and Gold knew that Belle had arrived without even needing to look into the front of the shop.  Somehow, the bell sounded different when Belle was the one coming through the door.

“Good morning!  Are you in here, Mr. Grinch?  I mean Mr. Gold.”  He could hear her smirking as she pretended to correct herself.

“Well, it _is_ my shop,” he reminded her as he stepped through the curtain in time to watch Belle hang up her blue wool coat and attempt to smooth down her windblown curls.  

She flashed him a smile over her shoulder before bending down to pick up a colorful paper bag that he hadn’t noticed sitting at her feet.  As she walked toward him, her absurdly high heels clicking against the wooden floor, she spoke in an atrocious faux Scottish accent.  "Good morning, Belle.  How are you this fine morning?  Did you do anything fun last night?“

"Very amusing,” he informed her, his tone making it clear that he found both her impression of him and her attempt to scold him for his less than gracious greeting anything but amusing.

Belle’s eyes sparkled at him from the other side of the counter.  "Would it kill you to be polite?“

"Probably.”  

She stuck her tongue out at him before depositing the bag she was holding on the counter.  "Be nice or you won’t get your Christmas present.“

Warily, Gold eyed the bag.  He hadn’t received a Christmas present in decades, and he didn’t have the slightest idea why Belle had chosen to get one for him.  Since he paid her salary, she’d technically purchased the gift with his money, which seemed rather pointless.  

That was assuming he was meant to take her words at face value.  It was more likely that this was one of Belle’s odd jokes than that his assistant had unexpectedly decided to give him a gift, especially since Christmas Day was still a week away.

"It’s not Christmas,” he reminded her, refusing to show any curiosity about the bag.

“I know it’s early, but it shipped sooner than I thought it would, so I thought I’d might as well give it to you now.”  Belle turned the bag so he could clearly see the cartoon Grinch on the side.  "Look, it even has your picture on it.“

"I see no resemblance.”  To his surprise, it seemed that Belle was serious about having gotten him a gift, and for the life of him, Gold wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He was an island in Storybrooke.  In a town where everyone was connected to everyone else by ties of family and friendship, Gold stood alone.  He expected nothing from anyone, and no one expected anything from him.  He had no strings of obligation tying him to any other resident of Storybrooke, and he liked it that way.  Self-reliance was an admirable trait.

The fact that he shared his workdays with Belle didn’t mean that there was a connection between them.  They were just two people who inhabited the same space for eight or so hours each day.  This gift was a potential string waiting to be tied, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted that.  

“I’m not planning to give you a present in return,” he informed her.  Better to make his boundaries clear now and allow Belle to retract the gift than to accept it and set her up for disappointment or resentment when her gesture wasn’t returned.

Instead of looking offended or taking the bag away, Belle grinned at him.  "You don’t have to.  You’ve got that _fabulous_ set of Oz books that you’re going to let me buy at half the usual markup.“

Gold knew exactly the set she meant, and his brow furrowed.  The books were in exemplary condition, but their brittle pages were too fragile to be given over to a child’s hands.  Belle would be better served to buy her niece a sturdy set of newly printed hardbacks.  "They’ll be wasted on Grace.”

“Grace?”  Belle blinked at him.  "They’re for me.  I love that series, and my paperbacks are falling apart.  We’ll call that your Christmas present to me— you’re going to help me upgrade for a reasonable price.“

Gold considered her proposal.  Letting her buy the books at a reduced price wasn’t _really_ a present.  It was more like offering an employee discount.  He would still turn a tidy profit from the sale, and that was certainly more money than he would make letting the books sit around collecting dust.  Still, he couldn’t acquiesce immediately.  "Two-thirds of the usual markup.”

“Fifty-five percent, and you throw in that necklace,” she countered, pointing past his shoulder at a piece of vintage costume jewelry, pretty but ultimately worthless.

“The stones are just glass,” Gold cautioned.  If Belle thought she would be getting something valuable if he agreed to her terms, she was in for a disappointment.

She shrugged.  "It’s pretty, and it will look perfect with my New Year’s Eve outfit.  Now, do we have a deal?“

If he kept haggling, he could probably get her to agree to his original sixty-six percent plus the necklace, but Gold’s attention kept wandering to the bag.  The longer they debated Belle’s discount, the longer he had to wait to find out what was inside.  "Deal.”

“ _Yes_!”  Belle pumped her fist in enthusiasm before extending an imperious hand.  "Give me my necklace.“

"What happened to ‘please’?” Gold admonished before turning to retrieve the piece she’d claimed.  

By the time he turned around, Belle had her back to him, her hand holding her hair up and away from her neck.  Her intentions were clear, and he swallowed hard.

Careful not to let his unease show, Gold draped the necklace around Belle’s throat from behind and fumbled with the tiny clasp, his fingers feeling unusually large and clumsy.  It took him three tries before he finally succeeded in hooking the necklace, his fingertips hyperaware of the warmth of Belle’s skin.

It was a relief to finish the task.  "There.“

Belle turned eagerly, looking at him instead of in the mirror.  "How does it look?”

Against her pale skin, the imitation stones sparkled like they were real diamonds, the elegant curve of her neck turning the previously unremarkable piece into a work of art.  "It suits you.“

Only then did Belle look in the mirror, taking a moment to straighten the necklace before nodding in satisfaction.  Primping complete, she gave the gift bag a tiny shove closer to him.  "Your turn.  I hope you like it.”

Her teeth worried at her lower lip as Gold reached for the bag, causing him to wonder what on earth she could have bought for him that she would have cause to worry about.  Perhaps she was just afraid that he would tease her for buying him a “World’s Greatest Boss” coffee mug or some other ironic trinket.

Mystified, he reached into the bag and sorted through the tissue paper until he found a box.  Belle hadn’t wrapped it, but even when he pulled it out and looked at it, he still had no idea what she’d gotten him for Christmas.

When he didn’t react, Belle came to his rescue.  "It’s a DNA kit.  All you have to do is swab the inside of your cheek and send it off, and the company can link you to other members of your family.“

"How… thoughtful.”  Gold had exactly zero interest in being linked to Malcolm Gold or any branch of the family tree that had created him.  Nor did he have any curiosity about his mother.  He knew her name was Fiona Black and that she had abandoned him. More information than that was unnecessary.

Well, it wasn’t as though Belle knew his rather depressing history.  No doubt she thought he would be keen to trace his lineage.  It was a logical assumption to make of a man whose interest in history had led him to dabble in antiques.  "Thank you.“

"It’s for Bae,” Belle explained, bringing him up short.

“Excuse me?”

“You said you didn’t want to track him down and intrude on his life, but what if he wants to find _you_ someday?  A lot of people find long-lost family members this way.  If your DNA is on file, then someday if he does one of these kits, he’ll see your information and maybe get in touch with you.”  Belle’s shoulders slumped.  "I just thought… maybe… It’s like leaving the porch light on.  You’d be giving him a way to find you if he wants to.“

Gold’s breath caught in his chest when he realized what Belle had tried to give him.  If circumstances had been slightly different, it would have been the perfect gift.  She couldn’t give him Bae back, but she was offering him the hope that someday Bae might find his way back on his own.

Unfortunately, her thoughtfulness was for naught.  If Bae used one of these kits to try to find his father, it wasn’t Gold’s name that would appear.  

"It was very kind of you,” he said honestly.  It wasn’t Belle’s fault that her gift was useless.  Based on their previous conversation, she had every reason to believe that Bae was his biological son.  

Belle let out a noisy sigh.  "I’ve been second-guessing myself.  I thought maybe it would make it worse if you did the kit and nothing happened.  I mean, if he doesn’t get in touch, you won’t know if it’s because he isn’t looking or if it’s because he didn’t get the idea to look this way yet or because…"

She trailed off.  "I guess I’m not giving you a lot of incentive to try the kit, am I?“

Gold swallowed a startled laugh, the strangled noise making Belle jerk her head back so she could look directly at him, her eyes wide.  "Was that a _laugh_?”

“Absolutely not,” he denied.

“It was.”  Belle contradicted with a delighted smile.  "The fearsome Ebenezer Gold just _laughed_.“

"I did no such thing, and I’ll thank you to stop slandering me.”  

Belle rested her hands on the counter and leaned closer.  "Do it again,“ she begged.

She’d moved only a few inches, but she suddenly seemed far too close.  "I have nothing to laugh about,” Gold denied, his face feeling uncomfortably warm.

Reaching out, Belle gave his tie a gentle tug.  "That’s what I want for Christmas.  I want to hear you laugh.“

It was a ridiculous thing to say, leaving Gold in no doubt that she was teasing him.  Belle’s face was oddly intent, and even once she released his tie, he could still feel the weight of her hand making it difficult to breathe.  "You already have your Christmas present.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when Belle stepped back.  "That’s true.  I don’t want to be greedy.“

Gold stowed the DNA kit back in the gift bag and placed it beneath the counter, out of the way of prying eyes.  The shop would be officially opening in a matter of minutes, and the last thing he needed was gossip about how his relationship with his assistant had progressed to the gift giving stage and what that meant.  Belle would be mortified to hear her name bandied in such a way.

“Are you going to use it?” she asked hopefully.

“I’ll think about it.”  It wasn’t really a lie.  He would think about how nice it would be if he could use this kit to leave the porch light on for Bae, as Belle had put it.  Having even a faint glimmer of hope that his boy might one day find his way home would be a glorious thing.  

Unfortunately, it was not to be.

Belle smiled at him.  "That’s all I can ask.“

Her gaze was so warm that Gold felt as though he was being bathed in sunlight as she looked at him.  For an insane moment, he was tempted to tell her that she could have the set of Oz books at cost, and it took some effort to swallow down the impulsive words.  What in the world was happening to him?

It was a relief when the first customer of the day arrived, distracting him from DNA kits, Oz books, and the look in Belle’s eyes.  No other woman had ever looked at him that way before, and Gold wasn’t sure what to make of it.  There was affection in her eyes, coupled with an awareness that he couldn’t understand.  He was just her employer, the cranky old man with whom she spent her days.  They were casual friends, but there was nothing more between them than that.

He was probably seeing things.  Perhaps his vision was starting to go.  After all, he was getting to the age where many men needed glasses.

There wasn’t another quiet moment until mid-afternoon when Belle took advantage of a lull in business to make a quick run to the ice cream parlor and came back with gingerbread cones bedecked with sprinkles for both of them.  Fortunately, she seemed too intent on her treat to look at him in any particular way.

It wasn’t until she’d finished licking the last of the melting ice cream off her fingers— a process that Gold was careful not to watch— that she looked directly at him.  "I lied.  I do want to be greedy.”

Since they’d been discussing their respective opinions about the meatloaf at Granny’s diner, Gold was lost.  "Pardon me?“

"Have dinner with me tonight.”

Belle’s words were so unexpected that it took him several moments to process them.  "Dinner?“

With a decisive nod, Belle sat up a little straighter.  "Let’s go out to dinner tonight.  We could go to Granny’s or somewhere else if you’d prefer.  My treat.”

His assistant had clearly taken temporary leave of her senses if she was inviting him out to dinner.  They already spent all day together.  She couldn’t possibly desire _more_ of his company, could she?  Of course she couldn’t.

And if she could, what then?  Gold didn’t have the slightest idea what modern courtship rituals looked like.  If Belle was asking him out on a date, she was certain to be disappointed, and where would that leave them?  If things went badly— which they would— it would put a strain on their professional relationship.  If things went _disastrously_ , Belle might well quit, leaving him in the lurch.  He still didn’t understand how the computer worked, much less the website, and she’d cleaned the shop so thoroughly that she was the only one who knew where half the stock was.

Right now, they were comfortable together.  To try for more would be to invite disaster.

“I… hardly think that would be appropriate.”  

For some reason, Gold had assumed that would be the end of the conversation, but he’d forgotten that he was talking to Belle.  Instead of accepting his refusal, she leaned forward, a challenge in her eyes.  "Why not?“

"Because….”  Gold felt like he was drowning as he tried to find a way to put his reservations into words without actually telling her anything.  "I’m your employer.“

"It’s _dinner_ ,” Belle said patiently.  "I’m not asking to move in with you.  Friends have dinner together all the time.“

Gold felt his face heat as he realized how completely he’d misunderstood her.  Belle wasn’t asking him out on a date.  She’d merely suggested that they have dinner together as friends, and he’d jumped to conclusions.  

"I apologize.  I misconstrued your intentions.”

“Did you?”  There was a hint of amusement in Belle’s face, but she had the good grace not to laugh outright at him.

If he’d misunderstood Belle’s intentions, the rest of Storybrooke certainly would if the two of them were seen having dinner together.  Belle must not yet understand just what hotbeds of gossip small towns could be if she thought eating a friendly dinner together at the diner was a good idea.  By morning, all of Storybrooke would be certain they were having a torrid affair.

“Not the diner.”  If they were going to avoid gossip, they needed to be discreet.  Suggesting that he cook for her at his home would be completely inappropriate, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else they could go where they wouldn’t be seen.

“Do you like Chinese food?  I found this great little place near the college,” she suggested.

No college student was likely to care what he and Belle were doing together, making her suggestion a viable one.  "That suits me.“

"Great!  It’s a date!”

Belle hopped to her feet as the bell over the door jingled, leaving Gold to finish his dripping cone in solitude.  Somehow, he’d forgotten he was holding it.

It was just a figure of speech, he told himself.  He and Belle were going out for a friendly dinner.  They were not going on a date.  He didn’t date, and although Belle probably did, she certainly didn’t date men like him.  Therefore, this wasn’t a date.

If it wasn’t a date, maybe it wouldn’t be a disaster.  It might be nice not to eat alone for once.  That was what friends did: they kept each other company.

Gold didn’t date, but he might be able to learn to like having a friend.


	5. Chapter 5

“Try it,” Belle coaxed as she extended a bite of her shrimp dish across the table to him, held confidently at the tips of her chopsticks.  Gold was reasonably competent with the eating utensils, but if he tried such a trick, he would probably manage to drop a piece of his chicken and broccoli down the front of Belle’s blouse.  

Immediately, he cursed himself for thinking about such a thing.  At some point between the end of their workday and the start of dinner, she’d undone two more buttons than usual, and Gold was having some trouble keeping his eyes focused on his assistant’s face.

Despite Belle’s more casual appearance, the dinner was going better than he’d anticipated.  Talking with her at a restaurant wasn’t all that different from talking to her at the shop.  She was still full of stories and questions which had kept the conversation moving nicely until she got it into her head that they needed to try each other’s meals.

She’d already stolen a bite of chicken off of his plate, and now she was waving a shrimp under his nose as if it wouldn’t be totally unsanitary for them to share utensils.  "I don’t think—"

Before he could finish the sentence, Belle popped the shrimp between his open lips, leaving Gold no choice but to eat it.  The moment he bit into it, sweat beaded along his hairline, and he realized his mistake.  Apparently, Belle enjoyed spicier foods than he did.

“Sorry!” Belle blurted with a giggle that said she wasn’t really all that sorry.  Eyes sparkling, she poured more ice water into his glass from the pitcher their server had left for them.  "I take it you’re not a fan of spicy?“

Gold stared at the spot of wall just behind his companion’s ear as he concentrated on chewing and swallowing without making a bigger fool of himself than he already had.  His face felt hot, his eyes watering from the spice, and he was uncomfortably aware that Belle was watching every twitch of his expression.

With as much dignity as he could muster, he picked up his glass and downed half the contents, trying to extinguish the fire currently burning on his tongue.  "What would you do if I had a shellfish allergy?”

He was gratified to see Belle’s face turn pale.  "Do you?“

Satisfied that he’d made his point, Gold didn’t see any reason to torment her.  "No, but you didn’t know that.”

Belle’s apologetic smile helped relieve his burning tongue.  "You’re right.  I’m sorry, I didn’t think.  Sometimes I have a bad habit of doing that.“

By the time he finished his glass of water, Gold felt less like he was about to catch fire.  "Of not thinking?”

In the hushed tone of confession, Belle admitted, “I’m impulsive.  It’s my worst character flaw.”

Gold couldn’t suppress a snort.  "You think _that’s_ your worst character flaw?“

Feigning outrage, Belle flicked her napkin at him.  "Excuse you.  A gentleman is never supposed to notice a lady’s flaws.”

“But you have so many.  It’s hard not to notice them.”  There was a time when he would have said the words with the intention of hurting her feelings.  Now, he said them for the pleasure of watching Belle pretend to take offense, bracing himself for her to return his verbal sally with one of her own.  As infuriating as she could sometimes be, it felt good to talk to someone who wasn’t the slightest bit afraid to stand up to him.

It was almost… fun.

“All right then.  What are they?”  Belle lifted a challenging eyebrow.

Gold was so disconcerted by the realization that he was having fun that he’d lost track of the conversation.  "What are what?“

"My flaws.”  Belle tapped a single finger against the tabletop as she waited for him to reply.

Gold put down his chopsticks so he could give his full attention to the matter.  "You’re terribly bossy.“

"I’m not bossy, I just know the best way to do things,” Belle countered.

That led him neatly to his second point.  "And you think you know everything.“

"Not everything, just most things.”

“You have no respect for your elders.”

That surprised a laugh out of her.  "My _elders_?  You know, you’re not nearly as old as you pretend to be.  You're… what?… forty-seven?“

For a moment, Gold felt a ridiculous surge of pride that Belle thought he was younger than he actually was, then squashed the sentiment.  "I’m fifty-one.”

Belle gave him a considering once-over.  "You don’t look it.  And just for my own amusement, how old do you think _I_ am?“

There was no safe answer to that question.  Until this moment, the only thought he’d given to Belle’s age was to label her as young.  He hadn’t gone far enough to assign a number to her, and if he got it wrong, he was bound to offend her.

Frantically, he combed through everything he knew about her for clues as to her age.  She was old enough to have an eight year old niece, but Jefferson was the older of the two siblings, so that didn’t help matters.  She’d graduated college and spent some time traveling, so she was probably out of her early twenties, but that didn’t narrow things down as much as he might hope.  "Twenty… six,” he guessed.

Belle blinked.  "Are you serious?“

"Twenty-four,” he corrected hastily.

Picking up her glass, Belle held it up to him in a salute.  "You just paid me a very nice compliment.  Thank you.“

With no idea what he’d done, Gold nodded his acceptance of her gratitude.  "You’re welcome.”

“I’m thirty-two,” Belle explained.

He found that rather difficult to believe, but he couldn’t imagine any woman lying to make herself older.  "I would not have guessed that.“

"So enough with this ‘respect your elders’ and 'when you get to be my age…’ crap.  You’ve got less than twenty years on me,” she said firmly.

Twenty years wasn’t inconsiderable, but the gap in their respective ages was smaller than he’d thought.  Not that it mattered in the slightest.  He was still old enough to be Belle’s father.  "With age comes wisdom and experience.“

"Prove it.”  Belle spread her arms wide.  "Lay some wisdom on me.“

Since he was reasonably certain that she was baiting him, Gold reclaimed his chopsticks and turned his attention back to his meal.  He couldn’t dispense pearls of wisdom like he was a vending machine, and if he tried, Belle would only delight in picking apart whatever he said.

Under the table, Belle nudged his foot with her own.  "Come on.  You wanted me to listen to my elders.  I’m listening.  Say something wise, Goldy-Wan Kenobi.”

When people said his name, it usually came with either a sneer or a tremor of fear.  No one played with it the way that Belle did.  She’d called him Mr. Grinch and Ebenezer Gold, but the _Star Wars_ pun took it to a new level, and it caught Gold completely off guard.

Unable to stop himself, he laughed.

Immediately, he lowered his head to hide his face, using his hair to shield himself, but it was too late.  The damage was done.

When he risked looking up, Belle was resting her chin on her hand and gazing at him in rapture.  "That’s it,“ she breathed.  "That’s _exactly_ what I wanted.”

Not sure how to handle this form of teasing, Gold fiddled with his napkin.  "Yes.  Well.  I found your wordplay quite amusing.“

"You look very handsome when you laugh.  You should do it more often.”

When Gold gave her a pained look, Belle giggled and took pity on him.  "Okay, okay, I’ll stop.“

"Thank you.”  By this point, he knew Belle well enough to know that her mockery was intended to be playful, but it still stung his pride.

To his relief, Belle changed the subject.  "So, what do you do when you’re not running an antique shop and terrorizing the villagers?  What does Ebenezer Gold do for fun?“

Gold was about to protest that he wasn’t the sort of man who had fun when he realized it wasn’t true.  For the past two months, he’d been having a great deal of fun, although it had taken him until tonight to notice.  Sparring with Belle was fun.

It was probably wiser not to tell her that.  "My life is very dull.”

Belle stabbed a shrimp with enthusiasm.  "You must do something to pass the time.  Let me see if I can guess… Do you paint?  Sculpt?  Play the cello?“

There wasn’t an artistic bone in his body, and Gold let his expression convey that information for him.  Belle was undaunted.  "Do you like old monster movies?  Or are you writing your own translation of _The Ramayana_?”

Gold could only imagine what Belle saw when she looked at him if she thought any of the things she’d mentioned could actually be a hobby for him.  He almost hated to disappoint her.  "None of the above, although I do enjoy a good book from time to time.“

Belle’s eyes lit up like he’d said exactly what she wanted to hear.  ” _Now_ we’re talking!  What’s your favorite genre?  Do you have a top ten favorite books list?“

Although Gold had known his assistant liked to read, he’d been unaware of how passionate she was about books.  To his surprise, they had fairly similar taste, ranging from the classics to magical realism to nonfictional studies of how the world worked, and the resulting discussion lasted the rest of the way through dinner.

Gold winced as he finished his tea, the beverage having grown ice cold without him realizing it.  A glance at his watch made him blanch.  Had he and Belle really spent two hours talking about books?  It felt like no time at all had passed.

At some point their server had deposited the check at his elbow, but when he reached for it, Belle batted his hand away.  "I said it was my treat.”

She’d promised to pay when she suggested they have dinner together, but Gold didn’t remember agreeing to her terms.  Refusing to relinquish the check, he protested, “A gentleman always pays.”

Belle made a rude noise and yanked harder, forcing him to surrender before they knocked something over.  "The person who _asks_ pays.  I invited you, ergo I pick up the check.“

That didn’t sit right with Gold.  "But—”

“Nope.”  Belle cut him off without looking up as she pulled her credit card out of her wallet.  "If you want to make it even, you can invite me next time.  I promise I’ll say yes.“

Since he wasn’t the sort of man who liked to be in another’s debt, even for the cost of casual meal, Gold would be forced to do just that.  "Since I pay your salary, technically you’re using my money.”

Belle chuckled at his logic.  "If it lets you sleep at night, feel free to tell yourself that.“

It would be churlish to continue to argue, so Gold swallowed his pride and tried to sound sincere when he thanked her for dinner after she’d paid the check.  The bored girl who’d taken Belle’s credit card certainly didn’t seem to think there was anything odd about his female companion paying for his meal, so perhaps his manners were a bit out of date.  Still, the sooner he could repay her, the better.

Gold shivered as they stepped out of the restaurant and held the door for Belle.  Late December was always cold in Maine, but tonight there was a brisk wind blowing that cut straight through his wool coat and made his bad knee ache.  

"I’m over there.  Where did you park?” Belle asked as she pointed out the blue BMW coupe he usually saw her drive.

“I chose to walk.”  At the time, it had seemed like a good idea.  The restaurant was only five blocks from the shop, and he’d seen no point in walking home to get the Cadillac to cover the additional distance.  Now, with the wind slicing at his face, Gold wished he’d made a different choice.

Belle looped her arm through his.  "In that case, I’ll drive you home.“

When he resisted, she simply tightened her grip and kept walking, towing him along.  Before Gold knew what was happening, he was sitting beside her in the car while Belle adjusted the heat.  "Isn’t that better?”

“I would have been fine walking,” Gold said stiffly, resenting the implication that he was too feeble to see himself home.  He walked the mile separating his house from the shop twice a day.  An additional five blocks was no great challenge.

“What kind of a date would I be if I let you walk home alone in the dark?  It’s freezing!”  Belle shot him a sideways look.  "Besides, I had an ulterior motive.“

"Oh?” Gold managed as he reminded himself that Belle was only joking about this having been a date.

“We are going to look at Christmas lights,” she announced, ignoring his groan.

“I should have insisted on walking.”

“Lights are pretty, and they don’t require you to do anything except look at them.”  Belle put the car in gear and slowly pulled out of the parking lot, turning in the opposite direction from Gold’s house.

Either the people of Storybrooke were passionate about decorating or Belle made a habit of doing things like this because she didn’t drive them through a single unadorned area.  Instead every street she took was festooned with increasingly elaborate light displays, and it was odd to see so many of the properties he owned having undergone such a transformation.

“When I update the lease agreements, I’ll have to include a clause forbidding the display of Christmas decorations.”

Belle smacked his leg.  "You will do no such thing.“

"Really, I should have thought of it before.  People climbing on ladders to put up lights, overloaded electrical outlets… the whole thing is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”  He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.

“Gold!”  Belle slammed on the brakes so she could glare at him more fully, but after studying him for a moment she broke into laughter.  "Jerk.  You had me going.“

Gold chuckled along with her, for the first time not feeling the need to hide his amusement.  It felt good to laugh with Belle.

Eventually they reached the pink Victorian, and Belle parked in the driveway, turning off the BMW’s engine.  "I’ll walk you to your door.”

There was something strange in her tone, and Gold swallowed hard as he clambered out of the car.  It was a short walk from the driveway to the porch, and they made it in silence.  Belle watched as he fished out his keys and unlocked the front door, then she looked at him expectantly.

Apparently something was required of him, but Gold wasn’t sure what it was.  If this had been a date, a kiss on the cheek might be appropriate, but Belle had been clear that she’d invited him to dinner for purely platonic reasons.  What did friends do after they shared a meal?  

“Do you mind if I come in and use your bathroom?”  

“Of course not.”  Once again, he’d been overthinking things.  Belle had been looking at him expectantly because she’d been waiting for him to invite her in.  To someone more socially adept, her problem probably would have been obvious, but it had completely eluded his notice.

Gold reached inside to turn on the light, then stepped back to hold the door for Belle.  "Down that hall, second door on the left.“

He’d assumed that Belle’s need was fairly urgent if she couldn’t wait until she got home, but she took her time removing her coat and looking around the foyer.  "This is fabulous.  You have beautiful things.”

“Thank you.”  Gold followed her gaze, trying to see his home through Belle’s eyes.  The house was a bit dark and a bit cluttered, but that was how he liked it.

“Give me a tour when I come back?” she requested before following the directions he’d given her.

“If you’d like.”  If she was curious about the house, he was willing to indulge her.

Gold could count on two hands the number of people who’d stepped foot in this house during the time that he’d lived in it.  His housekeeper came every other day while he was at work, so she barely counted.  He preferred to conduct business at his shop, although the occasional desperate soul did turn up on his doorstep from time to time, and no one ever dropped by for a friendly chat, not that he would open the door if they did.  In this, as in everything, Belle was an anomaly.

Someone else’s coat was hanging next to his on the rack.  That was an uncommon sight.

“I want to see everything,” Belle announced when she returned from the bathroom, distracting him from his perusal of their winter garments.

Since the house had three stories and every room was filled with trinkets he’d acquired over the years, she would be here until tomorrow morning if he took her request seriously.  Besides, it wasn’t as though she would have any interest in private spaces like his bedroom.  

Instead, he escorted her through the first floor, his chest filling with pride whenever Belle commented on a particular piece of art or an antique that he’d restored.  Invariably, the pieces that caught her attention were his personal favorites as well, even though Gold couldn’t quite remember having favorites before Belle took an interest in his things.  

“I love the stained glass,” Belle sighed as he led her into the kitchen.  "I wish I could convince Jefferson to buy a place like this.“

The exterior of her brother’s house was a monstrosity of modern architecture, and Gold could only imagine what the interior was like.  He’d sold the other man a few bits and pieces over the years, and none of them were things Gold would care to surround himself with.

"It has its charms,” he agreed, seeing his home’s beauty anew through Belle’s eyes.

“Do you cook?” she asked as she ran a curious hand over one of the counters.

“A bit.”  No one would ever mistake him for a professional chef, but he was a man who liked to eat well, and that meant knowing his way around a kitchen.

“I can’t,” Belle confessed.  "Never had the knack.  Maybe you could cook for me some time.  Or give me a lesson.“

"I…”  Gold trailed off, not sure what to say.  He’d been assuming this visit to his house was a one-off, but Belle was talking like she envisioned herself becoming a regular guest.

To cover his confusion, he led her to the only remaining room on the first floor that she hadn’t seen.  His office was his private sanctum, the place where he spent most of his time.  The only real furniture was his desk and a leather couch, but that was all he needed.  Large windows gave the space light during the day and provided a pleasant view of the back garden, but Belle’s attention went straight to the wall of floor-to-ceiling bookcases.  

She practically bowled him over in her rush to examine the shelves.  "You’ve been holding out on me,“ she accused.

"I saved the best for last.”  Since this room was his personal retreat, having Belle here should have been an intrusion, but for some reason, her presence was anything but.  It felt right to have her in his office, and Gold chose not to reflect any further on the matter.

“It must be so cozy in here when it’s raining,” she enthused as she looked around the room.  "I can just picture curling up on that couch under a blanket with a cup of tea and a book.“

She sighed blissfully at the mental image, and Gold couldn’t help but smile.  "I’m glad you approve.”

“Approve?  I’m moving in!”

The pair of them shared a quiet chuckle that made the room seem brighter.  So this was what friendship was like: having another person in his private space and relishing it instead of resenting it.  Belle didn’t take up much room, but the house felt fuller with her in it— fuller and warmer.

“I should probably head home.”  He wondered if he was imagining the reluctant note in Belle’s voice.

“It’s been a… pleasant evening.”  In his head, the words had seemed innocuous enough, but as he spoke them aloud, Gold felt as though he was saying both too little and too much.

“I’ll let you pick the restaurant next time,” Belle promised as he escorted her back to the front door.  "Or you could cook for me.  I’d like that too.“

Apparently, she was expecting these dinners to become a habit, and Gold thought he might enjoy that.  "I’ll take that under consideration.”

“Good.  And next time you can give me a tour of the upstairs.”  

When he held her coat for her, Belle shrugged it on, then turned and went up on her toes, aiming a kiss at his cheek that landed closer to his jaw.  "I’ll see you tomorrow.“

That was the second time she’d kissed him, and even though this kiss hadn’t accidentally landed on his lips, Gold could still feel his face heating.

Fortunately, Belle didn’t seem to notice his consternation.  "Your front door would look better with a wreath on it.”

With her teasing him, he was again on solid ground.  "Don’t get _any_ ideas.“

Having her decorate the shop had been bad enough.  If Belle took it into her head to decorate his home for Christmas, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

Belle’s laughter rippled through the cold night air as she stepped off the porch.  "Good night, Gold.”

“Good night.”  Feeling rooted to the spot, he watched her make the short walk to her car and raised his own hand in farewell when Belle turned to wave before climbing into her car.

He didn’t move until her taillights disappeared around the corner.  Only then did he step back inside, the house feeling empty without Belle there to fill it.

Gold shook his head at himself, knowing that he was being ridiculous.  His assistant had left less than five minutes ago.  He couldn’t be missing her already, especially when he knew he would be seeing her again in less than twelve hours when he opened the shop.  

Really, this feeling of emptiness wasn’t about Belle at all, he decided.  Her visit had simply called his attention to something that he’d been ignoring: recently, he’d been feeling lonely.  That was a normal enough state for a man of his age with no family and only one friend.

Belle’s friendship was pleasant, but his assistant had her own life and responsibilities, so he could hardly expect her to become his constant companion.  Instead, he needed to redirect his energies in a practical direction.  He’d be well served to get a pet— a dog or some sort of small reptile that wouldn’t require much care.  A fish might be just the ticket.

Yes, a fish was just what he needed.  That would solve everything.


	6. Chapter 6

“I hate everybody.  Absolutely everybody,” Belle announced as the door swung shut behind their final customer, a full hour past the shop’s official closing time.

Since his assistant was usually annoyingly cheerful, hearing her voice a misanthropic sentiment was the best Christmas present Gold could receive.  "I knew you’d eventually come to see things my way.“

On the other side of the window, a shadowy figure slowed outside the shop, and Belle flew into action, her heels clicking on the floor as she ran for the door and flipped the sign to Closed.  A moment later, she shot the lock home with a decisive flick of her wrist for good measure.  Task complete, she slumped back against the door and slowly slid to the floor, her body as limp as a rag doll.

Gold was careful not to look at the way her skirt had ridden up, keeping his gaze focused on her face as Belle rolled her head from side to side.  "What is the _matter_ with people?  Who waits until _Christmas Eve_ to buy presents?”

“Half of Storybrooke.”  Tomorrow was Christmas, and they’d been mobbed from the moment they opened.  A veritable swarm of shoppers had descended upon them, all demanding ridiculous price cuts after pawing through every bit of merchandise on display.  The shop looked like it had been hit by a hurricane.

“Then I hate half of Storybrooke,” Belle revised as she toed off her ridiculous shoes with a moan.  Gold’s gaze was drawn to her cherry red toenail lacquer as she flexed her feet, noticing a design painted on her largest nails that looked suspiciously like sprigs of holly.  

If today didn’t cure Belle’s Christmas-mania, nothing would.  "It’s not like they didn’t know Christmas was coming.  Christmas comes _every_ year.  If they’d gotten organized, they would have had time to find exactly what they wanted.  We could have sourced something for them if we had to.  But _no_ , they had to wait until the last minute and then get pissed off that we can’t just materialize whatever they want from thin air…"

Gold chuckled as Belle continued to complain about their customers.  For him, the day had been only half as unpleasant as previous years because, for the first time, he had someone else to help him shoulder the burden.  His assistant, on the other hand, apparently hadn’t believed him when he warned her that this was coming.

“We didn’t even get our ice cream break,” Belle mourned.  "I was going to get us eggnog milkshakes.“

Deciding that his assistant had the right idea, Gold lowered himself into a chair, realizing belatedly that his knee was throbbing.  He’d been too busy to even notice the pain in the joint, much less take time to rest it.  "I would have enjoyed that.  Particularly if it contained a shot or three of bourbon.”

Belle’s throaty groan made his stomach clench for no apparent reason.  "Oh, that sounds amazing.“

She lifted her head, looking more animated as she glanced around the shop.  "You’ve got to have a bottle of _something_ stashed in here, don’t you?  We’ve earned a drink.”

Gold did keep a bottle of very good brandy squirreled away for emergencies, and somehow he wasn’t surprised that Belle knew him well enough to guess that.  The only surprise was that she hadn’t found it while she was turning the shop inside out on her reorganizing binge.

“Under the loose floorboard behind the counter.  You’ll have to pour your own drink because I’m planning to sit here for the foreseeable future.”  He was more than half-tempted to simply drag himself to the cot and fall asleep.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent the night in the shop.

Belle hauled herself off the floor, limping slightly as she made her way behind the counter.  Her cry of delight told him that she’d found his secret compartment, and a moment later, she came up with the bottle of brandy.  

“I’m sure we have proper glasses, but I can’t be bothered to look,” she explained as she grabbed two cups from a blue and white tea set on display near the cash register.  Gold watched her pour a healthy measure of brandy into each of the cups before she came out from behind the counter, pausing just long enough to hand one cup to him before claiming a chair for herself.  

“Cheers!  Happy Christmas to us!”  Belle waited until he waved his cup in her general direction in a sketchy acknowledgment of the toast before taking a sip.

“That’s better,” she sighed as she leaned back in her chair and tucked her feet under her, her cup held in both hands.

The brandy burned its way down his throat, and Gold found himself relaxing.  The day had been grueling, but it was over now, and they’d made a small fortune.  Since the next day was Christmas, the shop would remained closed, giving him the chance to rest his leg and recover from today’s exertions.

Of course, if the shop was closed that also meant that he wouldn’t be seeing Belle tomorrow.  It wasn’t that he would miss her, but he’d grown accustomed to having someone around to talk to.  Over the past two months, he’d gotten out of the habit of being in his own company.

He should have made time to visit the pet shop for his fish as he’d been meaning to do.  

“I still have to finish wrapping.”  Belle sighed.  "I guess I shouldn’t complain too much about people leaving things to the last minute when I did too.“

"It’s a waste of paper and time.  Why spend hours wrapping gifts that will be torn open in a matter of seconds?”  The whole thing seemed pointless to Gold.  No child would take time to appreciate an elaborately wrapped gift.  All Grace would care about were the contents.  

Belle rolled her eyes and stretched out one leg so she could poke him with her bare foot.  "Because it’s fun!  That’s the best part— looking at all those mysterious packages and wondering what’s inside.“

"If you want to waste your life on pointless tasks, nothing I can say will dissuade you.”  If Belle wanted to sit up half the night wrapping presents for Grace to tear apart, that was her business.

“You’re a just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?  Drink your brandy.”  Belle lifted her cup to her lips and took a pointed swallow.

They finished their drinks in silence, then Belle groaned as she looked around the shop.  "I guess this place isn’t going to clean itself up.“

Gold felt an unaccountable flash of guilt at her words.  Belle had already put in more than a full day’s work, and she clearly had tasks left to accomplish tonight.  There was no reason for her to stay and tidy the shop when he could easily do it tomorrow at his leisure.  "Don’t trouble yourself.  I’ll take care of it.”

Belle waved off his words.  "You’re as tired as I am.  Besides, I have to give the brandy time to wear off before I head home.  Come on.  If we do it together, we’ll get done in half the time.“

As she stood and stretched, he put his cup aside.  "I was planning to take care of it tomorrow.”

When Belle turned horrified eyes on him, Gold wondered what he’d said.

“You were planning to work on Christmas?  Aren’t you doing _anything_ to celebrate?”

He thought they’d already established that he wasn’t one for celebrating.  "It’s not my sort of thing.“

"Yes, but…”  Belle flailed her hands.  "It’s _Christmas_!“

"It’s just another day on the calendar.”  

As Belle set to work tidying up, her jerky movements spoke of distress, leaving Gold uncomfortable.  Try as he might, he couldn’t understand why his lack of holiday spirit seemed to bother her so.  She was free to spend the day as she liked, so what did it matter if he chose to ignore the holiday instead of wrapping himself in Christmas lights and watching _It’s a Wonderful Life_ for twelve hours straight?

“Do you have family to call?” she asked, her back to him as she straightened a display.

Knowing Malcolm Gold’s predilections, he probably had several dozen half-siblings scattered across Europe, but that was something else that Belle didn’t need to know.  

“I was raised by my aunts.  They died more than twenty years ago.”  Even after all of this time, the thought of them still made his heart ache, their absence leaving a hole in his life that could never be filled.  

“I’m so sorry.”  Instead of mouthing a meaningless condolence, Belle sounded like she meant it.

Gold busied himself with balancing the cash drawer, welcoming the distraction.  "It’s no matter.“

"It matters.”  Belle glanced at him over her shoulder with a sad smile.  "Remember, I lost my parents too.  I get you.“

He hadn’t meant to remind her of unpleasant memories.  "Are you and Jefferson hosting tomorrow?”

To his relief, Belle allowed him to redirect the conversation.  "We’re having some friends over.  Most of the family is still in Australia, and no one really wants to travel that much at Christmas.  We’ll video chat at some point, so everyone can see Grace.“

"That sounds nice.”  Gold would have given all he had for the chance to see even an annual picture of Bae.  He hoped Belle’s relatives appreciated how lucky they were.

The pair of them tidied the shop in a silence broken only by the soft sound of Christmas carols playing on the little speakers Belle had set up and the occasional burst of revelry from outside.  The rest of Storybrooke’s inhabitants had clearly already begun their holiday celebrations, and for half a second, Gold wondered what it would be like to be part of the festivities.  

As soon as he had the thought, he shook it off, his mouth twisting into a wry smile.  Apparently he and his assistant were rubbing off on each other.  She’d caught a bit of his misanthropy and he’d caught a little of her Christmas spirit.  He wondered which one of them was more uncomfortable with the unexpected development.

He’d feel more like his old self once the decorations were down, Gold assured himself.  For the past month, he’d been surrounded by mistletoe and Christmas lights, and that was enough to wear on anyone.  Once Belle returned the shop to normal, he’d regain his equilibrium.

He reached for a string of lights, meaning to get a head start on dismantling the decorations, but before he could pull them down, Belle materialized at his side to slap his hand.  "Stop that!  What are you doing?“

This was getting ridiculous.  When the shop reopened on Boxing Day, Christmas would be a thing of the past.  "I gave you _carte blanche_ to decorate for the holiday season, but it’s over now.”

Belle snorted.  "I didn’t know that giving _carte blanche_ meant ‘fighting tooth and nail.’  If you keep redefining words, I’m going to need a Gold-to-English dictionary.“

When he refused to dignify that jibe with a response, Belle reached up to straighten the light string.  "There are twelve days of Christmas, and tomorrow is only the first one.  It’s bad luck to take decorations down before Twelfth Night.”

Although Gold was reasonably sure that she was making that last part up, he knew his assistant well enough to realize he wasn’t going to win this round.  If he snuck in tomorrow and took everything down, she’d just spend Boxing Day putting it all back up instead of helping him deal with the influx of customers wanting to offload the unwanted gifts they’d received.  

He’d managed to ignore the decorations for a month.  He could last twelve more days.  

Belle slipped away to flip off the shop’s lights, leaving the room illuminated by the Christmas lights alone.  "You can’t tell me you don’t think that’s pretty.“

Gold knew every inch of the shop well enough to navigate it blindfolded in his sleep, yet something about seeing it lit only by Belle’s twinkling lights made the space seem unfamiliar and mysterious.  For a breathless moment, it felt like anything could happen.

Instead of returning to his side, Belle had chosen to linger in the middle of the room directly under the mistletoe ball.  The glow of the Christmas lights made her look different too— her eyes seemed darker, her lips redder— and Gold found himself taking a step toward her as though he’d been hypnotized.

By the rules of mistletoe, he was allowed to claim a kiss from his assistant, and in a fit of sudden insanity, Gold was tempted to do just that.  Belle had kissed him twice, and turnabout was fair play.  

More than turnabout, he _wanted_ to kiss her.

That was a disquieting thought, and Gold hastened to quash it.  Belle would be appalled if she knew he was thinking about such things.  His assistant probably had no idea that she was standing under the mistletoe, and she would be mortified if he called her attention to the fact.

Instead, Gold moved to switch the lights back on.  "Your lights have their charms, but I prefer to be able to see what I’m doing.”

Belle’s eyes sparkled as she nodded sagely in agreement.  "There’s _definitely_ something to be said for being able to watch what’s going on.“

Gold had the bizarre feeling that she wasn’t talking about work, but he didn’t have the slightest idea what she _was_ talking about.  He supposed that it didn’t matter.  Since he understood basically nothing about Belle, one more thing was hardly an issue.

"So, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow…”  Belle turned her back to him as she straightened the chairs they’d been sitting on, the last things that were out of place.  "Why don’t you come over for Christmas dinner?“

Gold blinked.  It was one thing for Belle to invite him to join her for dinner, an invitation that he still needed to reciprocate.  It was quite another for her to subject her family to his presence on Christmas of all days.  "I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Why not?”  With the shop clean, Belle moved to sit on the counter, swinging her legs as she looked at him expectantly.

“You’ve told me repeatedly that your niece is terrified of me.  I see no point in ruining the girl’s Christmas with my unwanted presence.”  If Belle wanted to spend the day together, just the two of them, he might be tempted, but spending the day with her niece and brother, as well as whatever friends they’d invited, held no appeal for Gold.  Making polite small talk with people he barely knew was his idea of hell.

Belle grinned at him.  "Ah, but I’ve already thought of that.  Once Grace unwraps the present you got her, I think she’ll be much more kindly disposed toward you.“

Gold wondered if he’d blundered into a parallel universe.  At no point had Belle suggested he purchase a gift for her niece, and if she had, he would have firmly rejected the notion.  "I got her nothing.”

“You’re too far away.  Come here,” Belle commanded, beckoning him closer until he reluctantly moved to stand in front of her.  Once he was within reach, Belle took hold of his tie, running it through her fingers.

“You bought her the Bob Mackie Barbie doll she’s been coveting.  And you bought Jefferson a nice bottle of absinthe.”  She looked up at him through her eyelashes.  "It was very thoughtful of you.“

Her words were finally starting to make sense.  Gold had no idea why Belle had seen fit to buy presents for her family that were supposedly from him, but at least he now understood what she was talking about.  "I’m sure they’ll appreciate the gifts more if they come from you.”

Belle’s grip on his tie tightened.  "They’re never going to learn to like you if they never spend any time with you.“

No matter how much time he spent with Belle’s family, Gold seriously doubted they would ever learn to like him.  Fortunately, they didn’t need to like him.  "I appreciate your invitation, but I’ll have to pass.”

Belle pouted as she used the end of his tie to tickle his nose.  "Just come for an hour.  It doesn’t have to be for dinner.“

"Some other time,” he begged off.  With any luck, Belle wouldn’t press the matter further.  It was kind of his assistant to take pity on a man who would otherwise be spending Christmas alone, but her kindness was misguided.  If he took her up on her invitation, no one would enjoy the experience.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she threatened as she stared directly into his eyes.  

Gold found his gaze wanting to stray to her pink lips, and he swallowed hard as he forced himself to continue to meet her eyes.  

With a sigh, Belle let his tie drop and hopped off the counter.  "If I can’t convince you to come over, I guess it’s time to call it a day.  Should we sort out my present?“

Gold waved a hand at the corner where the Oz books were kept.  "You know where they are.”

It felt wrong to hear her call the books a present when they’d agreed that she could buy them at fifty-five percent of the usual markup.  He had no intention of getting into the habit of showering his assistant with gifts, but it was gauche to make a profit off of her when she’d bought a present for him, useless as it had turned out to be, and bought gifts in his name for her family.

As he watched Belle make her way back to the counter, the stack of books held triumphantly in her arms almost as tall as she was, he wondered if it would really be the end of the world to let her have the set at cost.

With a grunt of effort, she deposited the stack of hardbacks on the counter, her eyes gleaming with possessive pride as she ran a delicate finger over their spines.  

Gold’s mouth went dry as he tracked her finger.  "You can… have them…" he mumbled, his thoughts evaporating like morning dew before he could complete his sentence.

Belle turned startled eyes on him.  "I can _have_ them?“ she repeated doubtfully.  

"I…”  That wasn’t what he’d meant to say.  He’d intended to tell her that she could have the books at cost, but somehow the key part of that sentence hadn’t made it out of his mouth.  

Belle’s eyes softened as she leaned over the counter to press an exuberant kiss to his cheek.  "Thank you!“

She’d completely misunderstood him, but it was too late now.  It would be rude to correct her.

"Yes… well.”  Gold straightened his tie.  "Merry Christmas.“

"Is that Christmas spirit I hear?” Belle teased.  "Were you visited by three ghosts last night?“

"I meant to say that you could have them at cost,” he said stiffly, defending himself from her mockery.

Belle giggled like he’d told a joke.  "Sure you did,“ she agreed.

She bit her lip as she looked back and forth between the books and his face, her eyes bright.  "That’s really sweet of you.  Thank you.”

With a breathless laugh, she continued, “If you’re going to do things like this, I’m not going to be able to call you Ebenezer any more!”

“I believe I’ll be able to live with the disappointment.”  It was hardly a flattering nickname, even if Belle meant it as a playful joke.

Belle rested her hands on the counter and leaned closer, her face tilted up to his.  "You know, you never told me your first name.“

"I know.”  That was something he never told anyone.

“So…?”  Belle dragged out the word.  

When he didn’t respond, she gave him an exasperated look.  "So, what is it?“

Her face seemed extremely close to his own, and Gold realized he’d been leaning in to meet her.  "What is what?”

“Your _name_.  What’s your first name?  I can’t keep making things up, and I don’t want to just call you Gold.”  Belle’s gaze flickered to his lips.

Hastily, Gold straightened.  "Everyone else does.“

"I’m not everyone else.”  Belle’s voice was smokey.

No, she wasn’t.  There was absolutely no one else like Belle.

“Nachton.”

“Nachton,” Belle repeated, her brow furrowing as she tilted her head to look at him.  "I can’t decide if it suits you.“

"That’s my name whether it suits me or not,” Gold snapped, nettled by her reaction.  

Belle reached across the counter to grab his hands.  "Don’t be angry!  I didn’t mean to offend you.  It’s just that I’ve been trying to guess what your name is, and that never crossed my mind.“

In spite of himself, Gold was charmed by her admission that she’d invested actual time and effort into trying to guess his name.  "Have you given a lot of thought to the matter?”

“Mm-hmm.”  Belle nodded as she stroked his fingers with her own.  "You’re my own personal Rumpelstiltskin.“

Gold chuckled at her metaphor.  "You can call me Rumple for short.”

With a noisy gasp, Belle feigned shock.  "A Christmas present _and_ a joke?  Who are you and what have you done with my Mr. Grinch?“

Something about her phrasing made his stomach curl although Gold couldn’t put his finger on just what it had been.  It was hardly the first time Belle had called him Mr. Grinch.  "I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t share my name with others.”

“It will be our secret,” she promised.

They stood hand in hand, gazing at each other across the counter until Gold realized he must look like an ass and pulled his hands out of Belle’s grasp.  "I’ll bag these up for you.“

Belle’s smile flickered a little.  "Thanks.”

It was the work of moments to wrap the books in tissue paper and place them in a sturdy bag.  When he came around the counter to hand the bag over, Belle caught hold of his arm and leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Nachton,” she murmured against his skin.

Gold froze.  She’d been aiming for his cheek, but without her impractical heels, she could only reach as high as his lips.  Like their first kiss, this one was nothing more than an accident.

He couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t until Belle pulled away that he was able to draw a breath.  "Merry Christmas, Belle.“

For the first time, perhaps in his life, Gold found that he meant the words.


	7. Chapter 7

“What… um… what exactly are you looking for, Mr. Gold, sir?”

“A fish.”  He’d already told the pet shop attendant what he wanted when he walked into the store one minute after it opened on Boxing Day, and so far, the teenager hadn’t been terribly helpful.

“Like a… a goldfish?” the boy warbled.

A goldfish for Mr. Gold.  Belle would have had a field day with that, but she wasn’t there to comment.  He hadn’t seen her since they parted ways on Christmas Eve, meaning that it had been thirty-six hours since he last spoke to his assistant.

Christmas had been _interminable_.

Once, an entire day spent alone would have been a luxury for Gold.  As a rule, he preferred not to have to deal with other people’s foolish dramatics.  Most of the time that was still true, however Belle was the exception that proved the rule.  His assistant was stubborn, bossy, and often infuriating, but she was neither foolish nor overdramatic.  

In the months he’d known her, Belle had proven to be a delightful companion, and for some reason, her faults pleased him as much as her virtues.  Yesterday had been dreadfully long and dull without her company to enliven his hours.

She hadn’t forgotten him entirely, Gold thought smugly.  Around midday, his phone had made a bizarre chirping noise, and when he picked it up to investigate, he’d discovered that Belle had sent him a text wishing him a merry Christmas.  Since he would have had no idea how to respond to that sentiment even if he knew how to make his phone answer her, he hadn’t responded, but he’d looked at her brief message several times over the course of the endless day.

If he was reduced to repeatedly reading a sentence he’d already memorized, his loneliness had clearly reached dangerous levels.  Therefore, he was prowling the pet shop’s row of tanks, looking for a piscine companion.  He didn’t plan to become one of those pathetic souls who talked to their uncomprehending pets, but it would do him good to share his space with another living thing.

“A _fish_ ,” he he replied, putting extra emphasis on the word to disguise the fact that he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for.  None of the fish in these tanks looked particularly interesting nor interested in him as they flitted back and forth in identical groups.  He didn’t expect much interaction from a fish, but it would be nice if his companion at least realized he existed.  

“But what _kind_ of fish?” the teenager pressed.  "We’ve got lots of fish.“

"Something…”  Gold groped for a description, unwilling to tell the boy that he wanted a companion.  That was something he wouldn’t admit even to Belle, much less a stranger.

“Something intelligent,” he decided, pleased with his burst of inspiration.  Warming to his topic, he continued, “Something that doesn’t require much room or much care and won’t die within the month.”

The teenager looked a little offended at that.  "All our fish are guaranteed.  You just want one fish?“

"One.”  He was a solitary man, so a solitary pet would suit him well.

“You want a betta,” the boy announced.

“A beta?”  Wasn’t that a sort of video cassette?

The boy led him around a corner to a nook where several dozen exotically colored fish waited, each in its own small container.  "A betta is a Siamese fighting fish.  They’re pretty easy to take care of, and they don’t mind being on their own.  You have to be careful if you put them with other fish because they’ll fight to the death.“

Gold gazed at the colorful fish with newfound appreciation.  That was a personality trait he could respect.

"Anyway, they usually live about three years, but some of them live to be more than ten.”  The boy stepped back, his shoulders slumping now that his lecture was complete.  

“That will do nicely.”  Gold took his time examining each fish, wanting to be sure that he selected the very best one.  The burgundy one would complement his decor, but he kept coming back to a vibrant blue betta with accents of gold on its elaborately frilled tail.  Something about this fish pleased him, and as he looked at it, he had the feeling that it was looking back at him in appraisal.

Whimsically, Gold wondered what conclusions the fish had reached about him, then shook his head at himself.  "I’ll take this one.“

For a small, easy to care for fish, the betta seemed to require a great many supplies, all of which the boy was happy to sell him.  "Have the packages delivered to my house this evening at seven,” Gold instructed after he finished signing the receipt.

“We don’t deliv— Yes, sir.  Seven o'clock,” the boy agreed.  "Do you want to take the fish now?“

The sooner he and his new pet started to get acquainted, the better.  When Gold nodded, the boy packed the fish’s container carefully against the cold, allowing it to make the short journey from the pet store to the pawnshop in comfort.

Once inside the pawnshop, Gold was insanely tempted to hold the fish’s container up and walk it through the shop so it could look around.  Reminding himself that he was being ridiculous, he instead placed the fish’s bowl in the center of his work table in the back room where it would be out of the way.  As he watched the fish, it watched him in return, its fins undulating slowly in the water.

It really _was_ an attractive color, Gold decided.  He’d never favored one color over another, but something about this particular shade of blue called to him.  

"This isn’t your permanent home,” he explained to the fish.  Not half an hour ago, he’d vowed not to be the sort of person who spoke to his pet, but that was short-sighted of him.  The entire point of getting a fish was to have a companion, and companionship involved talking.  As long as he didn’t start projecting human emotions onto the fish or imagining that the fish was communicating with him in return, speaking to it was acceptable.

“We’ll spend the day here, and once the shop closes, I’ll take you to my house.  I believe you’ll do well in my office.”

The sound of the bell distracted him from explaining the day’s schedule to his pet.  From the front of the shop, Belle’s voice called, “Merry day-after-Christmas!”

His heart beat a little faster with her arrival, but Gold was careful not to let his expression betray his pleasure as he stepped into the front of the shop to greet her.  "I think we’ve both had enough Christmas for one year.“

Belle turned to face him as she doffed her coat, making sure he could see her roll her eyes.  "And good morning to you too, Mr. Grinch.  I see you’re in fine form today.  Was yesterday’s Who Hash not to your liking?”

“I had a very pleasant day.”  Even under torture, he wouldn’t admit that he’d found the previous day almost unbearably dull.

“It was a luxury to not have to listen to endless prattle about Christmas,” he added as an additional bit of cover.

Once Belle joined him behind the counter, she stepped close enough to give his tie a tug, pulling his face down to hers.  "Admit it.  You missed me.“

Her eyes were sparkling with amusement, and Gold had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew just how endless yesterday had been for him without her company.  It was a good thing he’d secured his new companion because the thought of another day like that set his teeth on edge.

However, it wouldn’t do to let her know that.  "I’ve lived fifty-one years without your presence.  I believe I can endure a single day without your company.”

A teasing smile played at Belle’s lips as she stroked his tie.  "Ah, but that was different.  Back then, you didn’t know what you were missing.“

She made a valid point.  Having never had a companion before, Gold had known vaguely that his life was lacking something, but now that he had a friendly acquaintance in his assistant,  the empty place had become distinctly Belle-shaped when she wasn’t around.  "I’m a solitary man.”

“Are you?”  A shadow crossed Belle’s face, and she dropped his tie.  "Is that why you didn’t answer my text?“

"Your text?” he repeated, caught off guard by the change of subject.

For some reason, his question made her brighten.  "Yes.  I texted you yesterday.  Didn’t you get it?“

"I got it,” he allowed.

“ _And_ …?” Belle prompted.

“How did you get my number?”  As far as he could remember, he’d never given it to her.

Belle flicked her tongue out at him and repeated her question.  "Why didn’t you answer me?“

He’d read her brief message so many times yesterday that he still knew it by heart, and Gold quickly ran though it again in his mind to verify that there had been nothing in it that required a response.  "I saw no reason to reply.”

For an instant, Belle’s lips trembled like she was in pain.  Gold blinked, certain that he was misinterpreting her expression, and as he did so, her face cleared.  "You don’t know how to text, do you?“

"It’s hardly a useful skill,” he sniffed.  Young people like Belle were all surgically attached to their phones, but he was too old for such foolishness.

“It’s a _very_ useful skill because it will allow you to talk to _me_ ,” she contradicted.

When the bell over the door rang to announce the arrival of their first customer, Belle turned to greet the newcomer with a professional smile.  Out of the corner of her mouth, she muttered, “I’ll teach you later.”

His assistant was like a dog with a bone once she got an idea in her head, and Gold heaved a mental sigh as he resigned himself to the upcoming lessons.  First it had been a website, and now it was texting.  Belle was determined to drag him into the twenty-first century, kicking and screaming if necessary.  

The day after Christmas was usually only slightly less chaotic than the day preceding the holiday, and this year was no exception.  Gold half-hoped that Belle would forget her resolve to teach him to text in all the confusion, but he should have known better than to underestimate his assistant.  

“I’m going to make you _earn_ your ice cream today,” she threatened during a lull in activity.  "What kind of phone do you have?“

"See for yourself.  It’s in the back.”  If she was going to make him do this, he wasn’t going to make it easy for her.  

Belle disappeared behind the curtain, and a moment later, a delighted squeal rang out.  "Who’s this?“

Hell, he’d forgotten about the fish.  Gold followed Belle through the curtain, relieved to see it sitting exactly where he’d left it in the middle of the table.  His assistant was leaning over to inspect it, and the fish was looking directly at her, tracking every movement she made.

"Aren’t you pretty?” Belle cooed, tracing the side of the bowl with one finger.  "Are you pretty or are you handsome?“

She glanced over her shoulder at him.  "Is it a boy or a girl?”

“It’s a fish.”  Gold moved to join her with a shrug.  When it came to fish, gender seemed largely irrelevant.

“You’re absolutely impossible.”  Belle pulled out her phone and tapped rapidly, looking back and forth between her screen and the fish.  In its bowl, the fish moved like it was trying to read the screen as well.  

“I think it’s a boy,” she decided after a brief research session.  

Gold still didn’t see how it mattered, but if she was satisfied, so was he.  "Very well.“

"When did you get him?  He _is_ yours, right?”  When Belle turned to look at him, a jolt went through Gold.  He hadn’t noticed at the time, but now that Belle and the fish were side-by-side, he realized that he’d selected a fish that was the exact same color as his assistant’s eyes.

“I bought it this morning.”  When Belle continued to stare at him, Gold realized that she required a more complete explanation.  "I thought I might enjoy having a pet.  It should do well in my office.“

Belle’s face softened, and she leaned into his side for a moment before returning her attention to the fish.  "Oh, Nachton, that’s _wonderful_.  What are you going to name him?”

Gold’s breath caught in his chest at the sound of his name on Belle’s lips.  It had been decades since anyone had called him by his given name, and he’d almost forgotten how warm and comfortable it felt.  For the duration of the time it took Belle to shape the syllables, he wasn’t Mr. Gold, the terror of Storybrooke; he was just Nachton.

He cleared his throat, careful to hide his reaction.  Belle would think him mad if she realized that just hearing the sound of his first name was enough to make his throat close up.  "I hadn’t thought about it.“

Beside him, Belle was practically bouncing in her impractical shoes.  "Then we’ll do it together.  It’ll be our project for the day.  Let’s see… What are some good fish names?”

She leaned so close to the fish’s bowl that Gold feared she would fall in.  "Tinker?  Tik-Tok?“

Gold had no idea why she thought those were good fish names, and some of his derision must have showed on his face because when Belle glanced at him to check his reaction, she smiled self-consciously.  "What?  I was rereading _Ozma of Oz_.”

He’d read the Oz books as a child, but his memories of them were more than slightly foggy.  Gold had planned to read the books to Bae once the boy was old enough, but he’d lost him long before Bae was ready for a tale as complex as Oz.  "Perhaps something… else?“

"Nemo.  Marlin.  Bubbles.  Gill.  Finn,” Belle rattled off.

“We’d might as well name him Sushi,” Gold sniffed.  A fish was just a fish, but his fish deserved a more creative name than Gill.

Belle nudged him.  "I don’t hear you making any suggestions.“

"Chip.”  At her blank look, he elaborated, “As in fish and chips.”

Throwing her head back, Belle loosed a full-throated laugh at his suggestion, the sound making Gold feel a little dizzy.  On the rare occasions that he allowed himself to make jokes, no one ever laughed at them.  Belle was the first person since his aunties died who seemed to understand his sense of humor, and it was a heady experience to have someone appreciate his wit.

Still chuckling, she wrapped her arms around his elbow and squeezed.  "Oh, Nachton…"

Whatever she’d been planning to say was cut off by the sound of the bell announcing the arrival of another customer, and Gold scowled as they made their way to the front of the shop to deal with the next wave of activity.  He enjoyed running a successful business, but it would have been nice to hear the rest of her sentence.

“How about Macbeth?  That’s a good Scottish name,” Belle suggested as she slipped past him to retrieve something from the back for one of their customers.

“So he can stab me in my sleep?  I think not.”  Gold considered the issue.  "Hamish.“

"He doesn’t look like a Hamish.  Jareth?”

They spent most of the day trading names back and forth under the customers’ noses, their ideas ranging from characters from literature and movies to random line-of-sight possibilities.  Belle sternly vetoed his suggestion that they name the fish Cash Register, and he was just as quick to reject Fishy McFishface as a suitable moniker.  

By the time they closed the shop for their ice cream break, Gold was out of ideas.  Chip was looking more and more attractive as an option even though it didn’t suit the fish at all.  

He wondered if it was his imagination that the fish was closely watching Belle lick her chocolate coconut cone.  Gold was careful to watch her do no such thing, but his new pet clearly lacked its owner’s sense of decorum.

“I’m sorry, buddy.  I don’t think you like ice cream,” Belle apologized.  

Reaching out, Gold sprinkled a few flakes of food into the bowl.  "I think this is a more appropriate snack.“

Without taking its eyes off of Belle, the fish deigned to eat a single flake.  

"I swear he understands every word we say.  Look how attentive he is.”  Belle rocked back and forth in her seat to prove her point, the fish tracking her every movement.

“He’s the Einstein of fish.”  It was probably foolish to take pride in a fish’s intelligence, but he _had_ taken pains to select the very best betta in the shop, so Gold allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, wondering when he’d started thinking of the fish as a _him_ instead of as an _it_.

Belle giggled.  "He’s a regular Archimedes.“

Her laughter died away as the two of them stared at each other.  

"Archimedes,” Gold repeated, testing it out for himself.

“That’s his name!”  Belle wriggled with delight as she looked at the fish.  "Hi, Archimedes!“

In his bowl, the fish bobbled slightly, as if approving the moniker.

"Well, I suppose it’s as good of a name as any.”  Despite his best effort, Gold couldn’t manage the bored tone he was striving for.  The name was a perfect fit, and he and Belle had come up with it together.  

She’d assisted him as a good assistant should, but for the duration of their fish naming project, Belle hadn’t felt like his assistant.  She’d felt more like a partner.

Gold devoted his attention to finishing his melting ice cream cone to distract himself from the thought.  A partner was something he’d never had.  His aunties had looked after him, and he’d looked after Bae, but those relationships were built on different foundations.  He’d never had someone who stood squarely at his side on equal ground, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the idea.

Belle tapped his ankle with the toe of her shoe.  "Don’t think I forgot about your lesson.  You’re not off the hook yet.“

It had been so long since she threatened to teach him to text that Gold had almost forgotten about the plan.  "It’s pointless.  I have absolutely no need to text anyone.”

“Of course you do.  How else are you going to give me updates on how Archimedes is settling in?”  Without so much as a by-your-leave, Belle hopped out of her seat to rummage through the pockets of his overcoat until she found his phone.  

She shoved it into his hand, then scooted her chair closer to his and pulled out her own phone.  "It’s easy,“ she promised.

To Gold’s surprise, she was right.  Within ten minutes, he was able to send a comprehensible message to Belle even if he had to squint to see the keyboard.  He really should make a point of visiting an optometrist some time soon.  

He wasn’t entirely sure why Belle felt the need to take a picture of him with her phone, although he enjoyed refusing to smile for it, nor did he understand how she was able to take a picture of herself using his phone, but it made more sense once her smiling face appeared on his screen, her picture and name replacing her phone number.  He’d had no idea his phone could identify people like that.  It was actually quite clever.  

"I expect you to practice,” she told him in a strict voice as they reopened the shop after their break.  

“Yes, Miss French,” he mocked gently.  If she insisted on acting like a schoolmarm, he would treat her like one.

Belle’s throaty chuckle caught him off guard.  " _Oo_ , role play.  I could get into that.“

Gold wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about, but the arrival of another customer saved him from having to come up with a response.  From there it was a revolving door of people wanting to exchange gifts until closing time, meaning there was no time for texting or fish or role play or whatever else his assistant had up her sleeve.

As the door closed behind the last customer of the day, Belle slumped against him with an aggrieved sigh.  "How many of those unwanted presents do you think we helped pick out?”

“Not too many.”  It was almost the truth.  Over the course of the day, Gold had recognized approximately twenty percent of the items being pawned as things that had originally been part of their stock.  It was frustrating, but no one had gotten anywhere near the original selling price in return, and now they could sell the item in question to someone else.  Overall, they were coming out ahead.

That didn’t stop him from growling when the bell over the door jingled yet again, but this time it was Grace who entered the shop, not an ungrateful gift recipient.

Remembering Belle’s lecture about being nice, Gold did his best to arrange his face into a welcoming smile.  "Hello, Grace.“

"Hey, sweetie!”  Belle brushed past him to come around the counter and embrace her niece.

“Hey, Aunt Belle.”  The little girl peered around her aunt to look at him.

“Do you have something to say to Mr. Gold?” Belle prompted.

Grace pulled herself out of her aunt’s arms and took a step closer to him, almost meeting his eyes.  "Thank you for my doll.“

Apparently Belle had followed through with her plan to give her family members gifts in his name.  It wasn’t right for him to take credit for her gifts, but if she was going to go to that much effort, he couldn’t spoil her hard work either.

"You’re welcome.  I’m glad you liked it.”  In his effort to be nice, his voice lilted oddly, putting emphasis in the wrong places, but he was _trying_ , and Belle gave him an approving look.  

Grace, who didn’t seem to notice how stilted he sounded, smiled tentatively.  "She’s pretty.“

"I hope you have a lot of fun with her.”  This time, the words came easier and he sounded more natural.  

The girl looked back at Belle.  "Dad’s in the car.“

"We’re going out for dinner,” Belle explained to him.  "Come with us?“

For a moment, Gold was tempted to agree, even though he would prefer not to share Belle’s company with her brother and niece.  That reminded him: he owed her a dinner invitation.

Archimedes gave him a reason to refuse gracefully.  "I appreciate the invitation, but the pet shop is delivering the rest of the supplies to my house this evening.”

Belle grabbed Grace’s hand.  "Come meet Archimedes!“

The little girl seemed taken with the fish, but she only visited for a minute before she remembered her father was waiting for them.  "He’s nice.  I like him,” she told Gold.

“Maybe Mr. Gold will let you come visit him once he’s all set up in his tank,” Belle suggested with a meaningful look.

First Belle and now Grace.  His home was turning into Grand Central Station, but if this was a test, Gold was determined to pass.  "I believe that can be arranged.“

As Belle led Grace toward the door, she paused to squeeze his hand.  "I’ll text you tonight.”

If she wanted to make sure he remembered his lessons, Gold wouldn’t disappoint her.  "All right.“

Her brilliant smile lingered in his mind’s eye long after she and Grace left the shop.  It wasn’t until the boy from the pet store delivered the rest of the supplies for Archimedes that Gold was able to fully banish the memory of her face and concentrate on the task at hand.   For all that the boy had assured him that betta fish were easy to care for, setting up the tank was a fiddly process, and Gold devoted his full attention to making sure that everything was exactly as it should be.  He and Belle had spent so much time picking a name for Archimedes that it would be a shame to kill the fish the very first night.

Eventually, the fish was installed in his new tank, and he seemed comfortable enough.  Gold settled himself on the couch so he could watch his pet without turning his head, enjoying the way his fins undulated soothingly in the water.  

"That’s better than the bowl, isn’t it?” he asked the fish.  In response, Archimedes bobbed gently.

Archimedes was a very restful pet.  Gold was content to simply watch the betta until his phone made that bizarre chirping noise again.  This time he knew what it meant.

“Hey!  We missed you at dinner.  How’s Archimedes settling in?”

Taking a moment to recall his lesson, Gold painstakingly typed a reply.  "He seems to be enjoying his new tank.“

"Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to send me a picture,” Belle threatened.  "Tell him I said hi!“

"Belle says hi,” he informed the fish, feeling only slightly ridiculous.

In response, Archimedes bobbed again, and Gold relayed the information to Belle.  "He returns your greeting.“

"Don’t make me wait too long to see him again,” she requested, adding a little picture of a winking face to her text.

Gold chuckled, pleased by how much Belle seemed to like the fish.  "I won’t.  I’m sure he’s pining for you too.“

"Pining?  Sounds serious.”  This time, the little face she included was smiling and blushing.

Gold poked at the phone, trying to figure out how she was making the little faces to no avail.  That would have to be a lesson for another day.

A moment later, his phone chirped again.  "Good night, Nachton.  I’ll see you tomorrow.“

"Good night,” he replied.  Instead of putting his phone back into his pocket, he left it on the sofa cushion next to him as he leaned back to gaze at Archimedes.  Already, the house felt fuller and warmer.

Getting a fish was the best decision he'd ever made.


	8. Chapter 8

Gold glowered into his phone’s screen.  "This is pointless.“

"Look right there,” Belle instructed, ignoring his complaint.  "No, not there.   _There_.“

On the screen, Gold could see his own face staring back at him, or at least that was the idea.  At the moment, his pixel-based reflection was staring off into the middle distance, and no matter how hard he tried to look where Belle was indicating, he couldn’t seem to look directly into the phone’s camera.

In frustration, he tossed the phone onto his work table and picked up his sundae.  Belle had decided that their ice cream breaks were the perfect time for technology lessons, and he’d already learned how to take pictures with his phone and text them to her.  So far, he’d sent her pictures of his ice cream, the glass unicorn mobile he was in the process of restringing, and her left shoe, but Belle wasn’t satisfied.

"You’re never going to get it if you don’t practice,” Belle scolded, but he noticed she didn’t waste any time getting back to her own ice cream.

“There is no reason for me to ‘get it’.  There is no possible situation where I would need to send someone a picture of myself.”  He understood the point of being able to send pictures.  It was a skill that might come in handy if he wanted a second opinion on an item available at an estate sale or if Belle demanded proof that Archimedes was still alive.  However there was absolutely no reason he would ever need to send someone a self-portrait.

“What if I ask you to send me a picture?” she challenged.

Gold pulled a face at her suggestion.  Belle saw him every single day.  She hardly needed photographic evidence of his existence.  "Why in the world would you do that?“

"What if I want to know what you’re wearing?”  

“In that case, I would describe my ensemble to you.”  If the situation ever arose, which he couldn’t imagine it would, Gold would probably do no such thing, but she didn’t need to know that.

Belle plucked his dish of ice cream out of his hand.  "Nachton, take a damn selfie or you’re not getting this back.“

She really was impossible when she got into these moods, and Gold had learned enough about his assistant to know that there was no point in arguing with her.  If he wanted to finish his ice cream before it turned into a melted puddle, he needed to pass her test.

He picked up his phone and glared into the screen again as he tried to figure out where to look.  Miraculously, he managed to find the right focal point, but before he could snap a picture, Belle tapped his ankle with her foot.  "Smile.”

“I don’t smile,” he retorted before taking the shot and sending it to her.

“That’s a bare-face lie, and you know it.  I’ve seen you smile.  I’ve even seen you laugh.”  Belle checked her own phone and wrinkled her nose.  

“You were clearly hallucinating.  Have you seen a doctor about these delusions?”  His assistant didn’t look pleased with the picture he’d sent her, but she didn’t prevent him from reclaiming his ice cream, so apparently, she’d deemed his effort acceptable.

“You look handsome when you smile,” she wheedled.  "You should do it more often.“

"I have nothing to smile about.”  He wasn’t going to dignify her taunt about his appearance with a response.  He wasn’t a handsome man and they both knew it.

“Well, we already discussed your wealth, health, and beautiful home back at Thanksgiving.  If that’s not enough to make you smile, what is?”  Belle pursed her lips and pretended to think.  "Let’s see… there’s Archimedes.  He’s worth smiling at.  And I think there’s something else, too…"

She held his gaze as she took a very deliberate bite of her ice cream, and Gold relented.  "All right.  I suppose ice cream is something to smile about.“

Her laughter rang through the back of the shop.  "You’re terrible,” she told him, her voice fond.

Since he’d just conceded that he did, in fact, have something to smile about, Gold wasn’t sure what she found amusing, but it didn’t really matter.  He’d rather have her laugh than be cross with him, even if he didn’t know what she was laughing about.  With anyone else, he would rather be scorned than ridiculed, but Belle was different.  Despite his pride, he didn’t mind when she laughed at him.  It felt good to share a private joke with someone, even if the joke was on him.

He enjoyed her company a bit too much, Gold admitted to himself.  When he wasn’t with Belle, he made constant mental notes about things he wanted to discuss with her or imagined her reaction to whatever he was doing.  Even Archimedes didn’t completely fill the hole left by Belle’s absence in the hours they spent apart.

It was disquieting to realize just how indispensable she’d become to him over the past two months.  Until Halloween night, he’d barely realized that Belle French existed, and now she was the most important person in his life.  Since he lost Bae, Gold hadn’t allowed himself to care about anyone.  It was a habit that had served him well for decades, but Belle had turned his life and every barricade he’d erected around himself upside down, just by being herself.  

If he was smart, he would set to work reconstructing all of the careful defenses that she’d knocked down when she exploded into his life, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.  It felt good to have someone to care about, even if Belle saw him as nothing more than her grouchy employer.  She would be a bright spot in his life until she left Storybrooke or lost patience with him, and he would have good memories to console him when that time came.

Even if he was doomed to loneliness once Belle moved on, there was no reason not to enjoy her companionship while it lasted.  It was a novel experience to have a friend.

He’d rejected her invitation to have dinner with her and her family last night in favor of setting up the betta fish tank and installing Archimedes in his new home, but he was still a dinner in her debt.  This morning, it had seemed like the easiest thing in the world to suggest they go out for a bite after they closed the shop.  He’d even driven the Cadillac into town so she wouldn’t feel obligated to drive him home like she had last time.  Now, however, he couldn’t seem to force his tongue to shape the words.

“I was wondering…” he began, his voice halting.  

This was _ridiculous_.  Belle had invited him to a number of things, which meant that she wasn’t averse to his company.  If worst came to worst and she wasn’t free for dinner tonight, she would suggest an alternate time instead.  It wasn’t as though she was going to laugh in his face or slap him for his presumption in assuming she would like to have dinner with him.  Hell, she’d invited him to dinner twice in the last three days.  There was no reason to be nervous.  He wasn’t asking her out on a date.  It was just a friendly dinner.

“Yes, Nachton?”  She nodded encouragement, her eyes bright.

“I was wondering how you make those little pictures when you text.”  After last night’s conversation, he actually had been wondering about that, but it wasn’t the question he’d been intending to ask.  Why was this so difficult?  This was _Belle_.  He never had any trouble talking to Belle.

Her brow furrowed.  "Little pictures?  Do you mean emojis?“

He was reasonably sure he’d heard that word before, although he didn’t know what it meant.  "I don’t know.  Do I?”

Belle grabbed her phone and a moment later, his own chimed.  When he looked at it, a text was waiting for him that read “Like this?” accompanied by a picture of a small blue fish.

“That’s it.”  The cartoon representation of Archimedes made him smile.

“It’s easy,” Belle promised.

While adding a little picture to his texts proved to be simple enough, finding the picture he wanted was a more complicated matter.  As far as Gold could tell, there were several million choices, and he was starting to understand why young people never looked away from their phones.  If they had to sort through all of these in order to send a message, they never had time to look up.

“Now you try,” Belle instructed.

Her lesson was giving him the perfect opening.  Painstakingly, Gold typed “Should we have dinner tonight?” and sorted through the pictures until he found one that he thought was applicable: a bowl of soup with a spoon.

Her answer came a moment later.  "Love to!  Where should we go?“

It was the height of stupidity to sit twelve inches away from Belle and text her instead of speaking directly, but for some reason, it was easier to communicate this way.  Last week, she’d chosen the restaurant, which meant that this week should be his choice, but Gold didn’t yet know his assistant well enough to guess what she might enjoy.

"It depends.  What do you want to eat tonight?”

In response, she texted him a single image.  As Gold peered at it, trying to decipher her meaning, Belle muffled a giggle with her hands.

She’d texted him a picture of an eggplant, he finally determined.  Thoroughly lost, he stared at it as Belle snickered.

“Like eggplant Parmesan?” he finally asked aloud.   That was the only dish he could think of that involved eggplant.  Perhaps one of the other countries Belle had visited during her travels had offered a wider variety, but in Storybrooke, her options were more limited.

“Sure,” Belle agreed, her color high.  "Let’s go with that.“

Fortunately, he knew a good Italian restaurant.  "I know just the place.”

Belle was still giggling to herself as they prepared to reopen the shop for the last few hours of the day.  Before he could unlock the door, she caught his arm.

“Sorry about that.  I was just being silly.”

“It’s fine.”  He’d probably started it by asking her how to add the pictures to his texts.  

When he moved to pull away, she tightened her grip.  "Just FYI… you probably shouldn’t text the eggplant to anyone except me.“

For an insane moment, Gold wondered if Belle was speaking in code.  "Don’t text the eggplant” would fit in nicely in a spy novel as a counter to “The dog barks at midnight.”

“All right?” he said doubtfully, wondering if he was missing something.

At his befuddled response, Belle took pity on him.  "Some people use it to mean something else.“

"I appreciate your warning.”  He couldn’t envision himself texting anyone except Belle, but it would be just his luck to reach out to some local farmer about buying produce and find Sheriff Graham arresting him for trying to buy drugs or whatever diabolical double meaning the eggplant held.

In deference to the holiday, which tended to bring people out in droves, Gold made them a reservation at Tony’s and didn’t give their upcoming dinner another thought until later that evening when he was pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot.

Last week when Belle suggested they go out to dinner, he’d resisted the idea because he feared for her reputation.  If people saw the two of them together socially, town gossip would draw its own conclusions about their relationship.  The Chinese restaurant Belle had selected was in an offbeat part of town, but he’d thoughtlessly chosen Tony’s, which was located near the town square and certain to be busy.  Thanks to his shortsightedness, they were definitely going to be seen together tonight.

“Hell,” he muttered as he killed the Cadillac’s engine.  He could already see Belle’s BMW pulling into the parking lot, which meant that it was probably too late to change plans.  As he watched, his assistant parked and got out of her car before glancing around, likely looking for him.

The reflection of colored lights from a nearby Christmas display tinted her hair in red and gold, making it blaze, and he wasn’t sure if it was the lights or her own inner fire that made her eyes sparkle.  Gold was a connoisseur of beauty, but he’d rarely taken the time to simply look at his assistant.  Now that he was, he was forced to admit that Belle was astonishingly lovely.

It should be obvious to anyone with half a brain that their dinner was no romantic assignation.  A creature as gorgeous and intelligent as Belle could have her pick of any man in town.  She would hardly choose a middle-aged cripple for her partner.  Anyone who saw them together would realize instantly that she was miles out of his league and correctly interpret the situation as work colleagues sharing a friendly meal.  

Or would they?

Gold’s stomach sank as he considered the character of the average Storybrooke resident.  Most were harmless enough, but there was a mean streak that ran through the town’s worst gossips.  No one would believe that Belle was interested in him romantically, but he could easily envision them assigning a darker motive to her friendly overtures.

As Gold contemplated the possibilities, Belle caught sight of him and started moving in his direction.  

“You drove?  That’s cheating!  Now I don’t have an excuse to drive you home and invite myself in,” she scolded as he got out of the car.

“I thought I’d spare you the trip.”  It had been kind of her to go out of her way to drop him home last time, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her generous nature.

Belle pouted.  "But I wanted to visit Archimedes.“

"Next time,” he promised, amused to see that she was pining for Archimedes just as he’d predicted.

Conscious of prying eyes, Gold was careful to keep a decorous distance between them as they approached the restaurant, and he arranged his face into its coldest and most forbidding expression.  With luck, any onlookers would assume this was a business meeting.

“Is there a reason you’re glaring at me?” Belle asked after they’d been shown to their table.

“I’m not glaring.”  The table was reasonably private, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.  It was better to be out of the spotlight, but he didn’t want them to look as though they had something to hide.

“Of course not.  You always look like you’re trying to set things on fire with your mind,” she agreed.

If she was trying to get him to laugh, he was going to have to disappoint her.  "Sarcasm isn’t necessary.“

His companion smirked.  "Says the man with a sense of humor as dry as the Sahara.”

“I’m not glaring.  I’m simply not accustomed to being the center of attention.”  

Belle glanced around the restaurant.  "Nachton, no one is even looking at you.  It’s Christmas.  Everybody’s got their own thing going on.  I doubt anyone cares what you’re wearing or what you order or whatever you’re worried about.“

She wasn’t yet accustomed to small town life.  Gold could only hope that she wouldn’t learn her lessons the hard way.  

It was, however, remotely possible that she was correct.  When he scanned the room, he didn’t see a single pair of eyes trained on their table.  Perhaps he’d worried for nothing.  

Allowing himself to relax just a little, he picked up his menu, and by the time their server arrived to take their order, he felt almost at ease.  "I’ll have the carbonara, and the lady would like the eggplant Parmesan.”

On the other side of the table, Belle gently cleared her throat.  "Actually, I’m going to go with the mussels.“

"I stand corrected.”  Once the server retreated, Gold gave his companion a quizzical look.  "I thought you wanted eggplant.“

In this light, it looked like Belle was blushing.  "I changed my mind.”

“Well, there’s no crime in that.”  He’d picked this restaurant solely so she could order that dish, but if she wanted mussels instead, it was fine with him.

Although the Pinot Grigio that accompanied their meal was slightly lackluster, the food was impressive, and once Belle got them talking about literature, Gold forgot why he’d been so nervous about this.  It was the most natural thing in the world to talk to Belle, and their conversation flowed so easily that he was almost able to forget that they were in public.

“So, what are you doing New Year’s Eve?” Belle asked as they waited for the check.

“The same thing I do every other night.”  By this point, she should know better than to believe he would be celebrating.

“You’re not even going to watch the ball drop on TV?”  Belle’s fingers were stroking the stem of her wine glass, and Gold was careful not to watch.

“Dates on a calendar mean nothing.  The celebration of a new year is a lot of fuss and nonsense over an arbitrary set of numbers the human race decided on generations ago.  Nothing actually changes from the end of one year to the start of another.  Nothing _ever_ changes.  Time simply continues to pass.”  As far as he was concerned, New Year’s Eve was just another day.

“Since you’re not doing anything, why don’t you come with me to the Rabbit Hole?  They’re having a New Year’s Eve party,” Belle suggested, completely ignoring his explanation as to why such celebrations were pointless.  

Spending the evening in a dingy bar crowded with drunken strangers wasn’t Gold’s idea of fun.  "I’ll pass.“

"We don’t have to stay that long,” Belle argued, refusing to take no for an answer.  "We’ll have a couple drinks, and if we’re not enjoying ourselves, we’ll go back to your place and hang out with Archimedes.“

"If we’re not going to stay long, why do you want to go in the first place?”  It would be easier to bypass the party completely and just stay home.

“Because it’s New Year’s!  Besides, the party might be fun.  We’ll never know if we don’t at least check it out.  Come on, Nachton.  Live a little.”  When Belle reached for his hand, Gold quickly picked up his wine glass to take a swallow, preventing her from touching him.  No one seemed to be watching them, but if anyone was, they were certain to misinterpret Belle’s friendly gesture.

That gave him an even better reason to refuse her invitation.  If people saw them together tonight, they might see nothing more than a business dinner, but being seen together at the Rabbit Hole would carry certain implications.  "I’m not one for parties.  You’ll have more fun without me.“

"I’ll have more fun without you being a stick in the mud,” she retorted.  "Besides, you’ll want to see me wear the necklace you got me for Christmas.  And don’t you want to make sure no drunk guy puts the moves on me?“

_Now_ he understood.  Belle wanted him to come along for protection.  Physically, he wasn’t an intimidating man, but his reputation would be a powerful deterrent.  With him at her side, no one would dare harass Belle, leaving her free to have fun.

If that was the case, he was willing to sacrifice a few hours of comfortable solitude in order to ensure she could enjoy the party.  However, it was important that she realize what kind of gossip she would be opening herself up to if she was seen with him in such a location.  Belle might well prefer to take her chances with handsy drunks if she knew what was likely to be said about her.

"If people see us together at the Rabbit Hole, they are likely to jump to certain conclusions.”  Gold hoped that she would follow his train of thought for herself.

Belle opened her eyes very wide.  "Oh?  What conclusions are they likely to jump to?“

To the small minds of gossips, there was only one thing a beautiful young woman like Belle could want from a man like him.  "They’re going to think you’re after my money.”

She glanced down and pressed her lips together hard before looking back up at him, her eyes dancing.  "Oh, will they?  And what do you think?  Do you think I’m after your money?“

"Yes.”

When Belle’s face went completely blank, Gold realized she hadn’t gotten his joke.  "I do pay you an exorbitant salary.“

Her body sagged as she aimed a kick at him under the table.  "You jerk.  I thought you were serious.”

He hadn’t meant to offend her.  "I understand why you want me to join you, but I want you to be aware of the possible consequences to your reputation.“

"Nachton…”  Belle leaned closer, her expression soft and open.  "I don’t care what people think.   _We_ know what’s happening between us.  That’s all that matters.  If other people don’t understand, the hell with them.“

"If you’re certain…”  Gold wondered what it would be like to simply not care what Storybrooke thought of him.  Belle was far stronger than he was.

“I’m certain.”

“Then I’ll accompany you.”  Hopefully she wouldn’t have such a good time that she wanted to spend the entire night at the bar.

Belle’s smile was luminous.  "See?  Was that so hard?  We’ll go to the party for a while, then spend the rest of the night at your place.“

"Archimedes will be pleased to see you again.”

“We’ll put a little party hat on him,” Belle giggled.

“Or not.”  He was reasonably sure she wasn’t serious.

Under the table, Belle nudged his foot with her own.  "It’ll be a good night.“

"Indeed it will.”  Spending the evening discussing literature with Belle, perhaps over a bottle of wine, would be a very pleasant way to spend New Year’s Eve.  It might even be worth going to the party first as long as she didn’t want to stay that long.

For the first time in his life, he had a date, however platonic, for New Year’s Eve.  Perhaps he needed to rethink his position on this particular holiday because he’d been wrong: sometimes things _did_ change.  Belle had changed his life quite a bit just by being Belle, and despite his protests, Gold was enjoying those changes.

Hiring her had been a very wise decision indeed.  Almost as wise as getting Archimedes.


	9. Chapter 9

Gold gazed critically at Archimedes’s tank, verifying that there was no hint of mildew or murky water that would lead Belle to believe he wasn’t taking proper care of the betta.  Although he’d intended to turn much of the fish’s daily care over to his housekeeper, in the end, he’d discovered that it pleased him more to care for Archimedes himself.  Taking care of a fish was far less complicated than taking care of Bae had been, but it pleased him to have something that depended on him.

“I’m escorting Belle to a party, and we’ll be coming back here afterwards so she can visit you,” Gold explained to his pet.  At some point in the last week, he’d ceased to feel self-conscious about talking to Archimedes.

“You’ll enjoy seeing her again.  You like Belle.”  Although the fish always looked at him when Gold was near his tank, it was nothing like the laser-focus with which the fish regarded Belle.

“I can’t remember the last time I went to a party.  I’m not sure if I look appropriate.”  He’d chosen a solid black suit that he’d paired with a blue paisley tie and pocket square that were a close match for Archimedes’s scales.  The Rabbit Hole wasn’t a formal establishment, but Gold didn’t own any casual clothes nor would he have worn them if he did.  If the purpose of him escorting Belle was to ward off any unwelcome advances toward her, it would behoove him to look his most intimidating.

Gold wondered if it was his imagination that Archimedes was looking him up and down.  "Do you have an opinion?“

The fish swished his tail which either meant "You look completely appropriate” or “Belle will be embarrassed to be seen with you.”  Then again, it probably meant “I have no opinion about your sartorial choices because I am a fish.”

“Thank you.  You’ve been very helpful.”

If he was reduced to asking his fish for advice, he must be more nervous about the upcoming evening than he’d realized.  The Rabbit Hole wasn’t the sort of place where Gold enjoyed spending time, and he was never at his best at parties.  He was unlikely to enjoy this experience, and it was even more likely that Belle would regret inviting him.

Of course, she hadn’t invited him for the pleasure of his company.  His duty tonight was to ensure that no one harassed Belle, and that meant that he didn’t need to look like he was enjoying himself.  The more surly and miserable he appeared to be, the less likely it was that anyone would dare cross him.  Belle would be able to enjoy the party unmolested, and once she’d had enough, they would come back here to discuss literature and visit with Archimedes.

That was the portion of the evening that Gold was looking forward to.  He even had a bottle of champagne chilling in deference to the holiday, in addition to a good Riesling.  It was just a shame that he was going to be forced to endure the Rabbit Hole before they could get to the pleasant part.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.  I hope that we’ll be back before midnight, but I can’t say for certain.  I don’t know what Belle’s plans are.”  Tonight,  he was at her mercy, and Gold could only hope that she would take pity on him before his nerves were completely shot.

Archimedes twitched his tail, a movement that Gold interpreted as “I won’t wait up.”

Satisfied that he’d explained matters clearly, Gold nodded at the fish.  "All right then.  I’m off.“

It was a short drive from his home to Jefferson’s monstrosity, but it still gave Gold time to second-guess his attire.  Perhaps Belle had been correct to insist he learn to take pictures of himself because he could have texted her for her opinion if he’d thought of it sooner.

Knowing Belle, she would have suggested leather trousers and an equally ridiculous shirt if he’d asked her what he should wear, so it was probably for the best that he hadn’t thought of it.  His assistant had a wicked sense of humor.

He parked near the front door and made his way up the stairs to ring the doorbell at exactly eight o'clock, their agreed upon time.  However, instead of Belle coming to greet him, Jefferson opened the door instead.  "Gold!”

“Good evening, Jefferson.”  He’d interacted with Belle’s brother regularly over the past several years, but they’d never socialized.  It was very different to stand on a man’s doorstep in anticipation of escorting his sister to a party than it was to stand opposite him at the shop, and Gold felt more than a little self-conscious.

“Come in, come in!  Belle will be down in a moment.”  The other man beckoned him into the house, and Gold found himself being ushered down a long hallway into a room filled with very white furniture and a great many teapots.

“I have something for you,” Jefferson announced as he rooted through his desk.  "Now, where did I…?  There it is!“

Since he hadn’t been asked to sit, Gold stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, half expecting Jefferson to come up with a pistol and threaten to shoot him if he dared besmirch his sister’s honor.

Instead, the other man held up a small wrapped package.  "Gracie loved her doll.  I don’t know how you figured out what she meant when she said she wanted ‘fairy Barbie,’ but I’m glad you did.  I bought half a dozen different ones, but none of them were right.  And the absinthe was very thoughtful, so I wanted to do something for you.”

Jefferson had gotten him a Christmas present, Gold realized, careful to hide his wince.  Both Grace and Jefferson had expressed their gratitude, but he didn’t deserve any of that good will since Belle had been the one to procure the gifts.

Next year he would do his own shopping, Gold promised himself.  No doubt he would need Belle’s assistance, but at least that way he would feel less like a fraud.  

“Thank you.”  Once unwrapped, the package proved to contain a small bag of leaves.

Thankfully, Jefferson was quick to explain.  "Ayahuasca tea.“

The other man gave him a meaningful look, clearly expecting the words to mean something to him, so  Gold nodded wisely as he put the bag in his pocket, making a mental note to ask Belle for further details.   "Ah.  I see.  Thank you.”

“Now that that’s out of the way…”  Jefferson moved to stand directly in front of him, the other man peering deeply into his eyes.  "How’s your health?“

"I’m fine.  How are you?”  He wasn’t good at small talk, but talking about the weather and their health was easier than taking credit for gifts he’d had no part in giving.

Instead of answering, Jefferson shook his head.  "No, no.  How’s your _health_?  Do you have any medical conditions?  Do you receive regular preventative care?  When’s the last time you had a complete physical?“

"Jefferson!”

Belle had arrived just in the nick of time because Gold had no idea what to do with Jefferson’s line of inquiry.  

“Someone has to ask these questions, poppet.”  Jefferson turned to greet his sister, moving out of Gold’s line of sight to give him his first look at Belle.

The teal dress she was wearing was one that he’d never seen before, and Gold’s mouth went dry at the sight of her in it.  The color set her eyes off to perfection, but it was the dress itself that had his full attention.  He’d learned that his assistant favored very high heels and very short skirts, so the hemline was no surprise, but this dress taunted him in other ways.  Framing her waist were two diamond shaped cutouts, baring her skin to his eyes, and for the sake of his sanity, Gold didn’t dare let his eyes stray to that bare skin.  

Mercifully, the dress’s neckline was high enough to be called demure, but even that wasn’t safe because Belle was wearing the necklace she’d talked him into giving her as a Christmas present, the rhinestones glittering brightly.  The piece itself was worthless, but on Belle, it could have been part of the crown jewels.  He’d given her that necklace, and seeing her wear it made his chest ache for no reason he could fathom.

Fortunately, Belle was paying more attention to her brother than to him.  "No, no one has to ask those questions.  If Gold wants us to know something, he’ll tell us.“

Since Belle had made a point of calling him Nachton ever since she learned his first name, it took Gold aback to hear her refer to him by his surname.   He’d answered to nothing but his last name for decades, but on Belle’s lips it sounded wrong.

Jefferson threw his hands into the air.  "Really?  I thought I could trust you to slip up!”

The other man turned aggrieved eyes on him.  "She’s keeping secrets from me.“

Belle stepped close enough to slip her arm through his.  Leaning up, she whispered in his ear, "Jefferson is very put out that I won’t tell him your first name.”

He’d asked her to keep his secret when he shared his name with her, and Belle had honored his request, even to the point of irritating her brother.  "I appreciate your discretion.“

"I can be discreet too,” Jefferson argued.  "Instead of your name, why don’t you tell me if you’re on any medications?“

"We’re _leaving_ , Jefferson.  And stop being creepy.”  

“It’s important to know these things,” the other man insisted, following them out into the hallway as Belle used her grip on Gold to tow him back toward the front door.

“Don’t have too much fun tonight without me,” Belle instructed.  There was a large cloth bag sitting on the floor just inside the door, and Gold watched, confused as Belle released him to shrug on her coat and shoulder the bag.  He’d never known her to carry an oversized purse, and this one didn’t complement her outfit in the slightest.

“Gracie and I will be good as gold.”  Jefferson snickered at the pun and waggled his eyebrows at Belle.

Her eyes dancing with amusement, Belle looked up at Gold.  "Do you see what I have to put up with?“

Having never had a sibling, this wasn’t a relationship Gold could relate to, but the relaxed interplay between brother and sister amused him.  Perhaps next time Belle invited him to join a family dinner, he might agree.  "I’m sure you’re a trial to him too.”

Jefferson clapped his hands.  "Thank you!  See?   _He_ knows you’re a trial.“

"I am practically perfect in every way, and the two of you are lucky to have me,” Belle said serenely as she turned to leave.  "I’ll see you tomorrow.“

Gold missed a step as he followed her out the door.  Belle had said nothing about planning to spend the night at his house, and he was woefully unprepared for such a prospect.  He hadn’t even thought to have the housekeeper prepare a guest room.  

As he escorted her to the Cadillac, the cold night air helped to clear his mind, allowing him to see the wisdom of Belle’s plan.  If they were planning to drink wine together, it would be wiser not to drive, and even if they consumed nothing stronger than iced tea, it was likely that other motorists wouldn’t be as careful.  Driving her home at one in the morning on a night of debauchery like New Year’s Eve was inviting trouble.  It would be safer and smarter to save the drive for the light of morning.

The Victorian had plenty of rooms.  He could find somewhere to put her.

Once they were in the car, Belle put her hand on his knee.  "You look very handsome tonight.  I like your tie; we almost match.”

She was being polite by calling him handsome, but it was still nice to hear.  "Next time, you’ll have to send me a picture so I can properly coordinate with you.“

He’d meant the words as a joke, knowing that Belle was unlikely to need a bodyguard in her normal course of activities, but his companion only smiled at him.

Since she’d told him he looked handsome, he should probably return the compliment, but Gold wasn’t sure how to tell his assistant that she was beautiful without crossing any lines.  Since he held a position of authority over her, any commentary on her looks might be taken as workplace harassment, however well intended.

"I’m sorry about Jefferson’s interrogation.  My brother is a genius, but he never learned how to be tactful.”  Belle sighed as he started the car.

“Life hasn’t been easy for him.  I mean, losing Dad was rough on both of us, but Mom was a lot harder for him because he was older when it happened.  He remembers her in a way I don’t.  And then his wife…”  Belle’s fingers traced an unconscious pattern on his knee like she’d forgotten she was touching him.  "I think if he had his way, he’d demand a full medical workup of everyone who comes into our lives.“

Now Jefferson’s interest in his health made sense.  By giving her family gifts that were ostensibly from him, Belle had given Jefferson reason to believe that Gold was interested in fostering a closer relationship with the entire French family.  No doubt the other man was leery of allowing him to become a figure of any importance in his daughter’s life until he was certain that Gold wasn’t on the verge of dropping dead.

"You can assure him that I’m the picture of health.”  Once Belle made up her mind about something, there was no point in arguing.  If she wanted him to get along with her niece and brother, he’d might as well make the most of it because there was no getting out of it.

Which reminded him… “Do you know what Ayahuasca tea is?”

Belle’s eyebrows headed for her hairline.  "Why do you ask?“

Gold took one hand off the wheel to pat his coat pocket, wondering what on earth Jefferson had given him if that was Belle’s reaction.  "It was my Christmas present from your brother.”

“Oh for the love of…”  Belle let out a noisy sigh.  "Yeah, you might not want to drink that.“

"Oh?”

“It’s hallucinogenic,” she explained.  "Jefferson and I both tried it as part of a ceremony while we were in Peru.  It was _amazing_ , but I wouldn’t risk it without trained supervision.  People have died.“

On second thought, perhaps Jefferson wasn’t worried about his premature death.  It was possible that the other man was hoping to hasten it.  "Is there a reason he wants to kill me?”

Belle chuckled.  "No, he has the best of intentions.  He says that night revealed his true purpose in the universe to him.  It’s actually a compliment that he wants you to have the same experience.  But, yeah.  Don’t drink it.“

Gold made a mental note to lock the bag away somewhere where he wouldn’t accidentally grab it when he was looking to make himself a pot of tea.  It would be just his luck to think he was drinking rooibos only to find the walls melting or his heart stopping or whatever dreadful effect Jefferson’s tea would have on him.  It would probably be wiser just to tip the bag down the sink, but the tea had been a present, and it seemed wrong to dispose of it so unceremoniously.

"I appreciate your warning.”  More than one person in his life would have egged him on until he tried the tea, not telling him of its effects until it was too late.  He was fortunate that Belle was more honorable than that.

Belle smiled at him.  "Maybe we’ll go to Peru someday, and you can try it properly.“

Gold snorted at the thought.  "I already know my purpose in the universe.”

“Really?  And just what is that?”  She leaned a little closer to hear his answer.

“To sell people things they don’t need at exorbitant prices.”  It wasn’t much of a calling, but at least he was good at it.

Belle slapped his leg.  "I think you can do better than that.  You _definitely_ need a trip to Peru.“

As he pulled into the Rabbit Hole’s parking lot, Gold reflected that a trip to Peru would probably be preferable to what awaited him tonight.  The parking lot was overflowing with cars, and he could see bunches of people standing in clumps outside the building.  This party was clearly the social event of the holiday season, and there was nowhere on earth he wanted to be less.

"I’m going to leave my coat in the car so I don’t have to deal with it,” Belle decided aloud.  

Gold gritted his teeth as he followed her lead, reminding himself that he was being noble.  Belle wanted to enjoy the party without being pawed at by drunken louts, and it was his job to scare off any unwanted suitors.  All he had to do tonight was look menacing.  He could handle that.

Belle paid the cover, waving off his protest.  "We talked about this.  The person who asks pays.  I’m sure you can find something fun to invite me to next time.“

Her definition of fun was somewhat different than his definition of the term.  As they stepped into the bar, Gold looked around in dismay, instantly overwhelmed by the loud music, throngs of people, and flashing lights.

Belle looped her arm through his and squeezed before leaning up to shout in his ear.  "There’s Will and Ana.  Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

A tall blonde woman and a man with short, dark hair were seated at a table on the outskirts of the crowd.  They both smiled at the sight of Belle, and to Gold’s surprise, their expressions didn’t change when Belle introduced him.  Maybe they didn’t realize who he was.

He felt a little better once he was sitting down with his back against the wall.  The volume of noise in the bar spared him from having to make small talk although he tried to keep his expression pleasant as Belle and her friends shouted back and forth across the table at each other.  

After a few minutes, she sat back and leaned against his side so he would be able to hear her.  "I think we need drinks.  What do you want?“

"Iced tea.”  His head was already pounding.  He didn’t need to make everything worse by adding alcohol to the mix.

“Long Island or virgin?”

There was no way she could be making a joke at his expense, but Gold tensed anyway.  "Just iced tea.  I’m driving.“

"I’ll be right back,” she promised and was out of her seat before he could offer to go with her.

On the other side of the table, Will and Ana were deep in conversation with each other, so Gold amused himself by tracking Belle as she slipped through the crowded room.  Several men attempted to waylay her, but each time, they backed down after she waved a hand in his direction.

Apparently his presence was having the desired effect.  Gold sat up a little straighter and concentrated on looking threatening, communicating with his expression that Belle was under his protection and he would tolerate no harassment of his assistant.  

“You’re doing that 'setting things on fire with your mind’ thing again,” Belle pointed out when she returned with an iced tea for him and a glass of something blue accented by a plastic ice cube that flashed various colors for herself.

“I saw that you attracted several admirers,” he explained.  Since the entire point of him being here was to scare off drunken louts, she should be pleased that he was taking his job so seriously.

“Silly,” Belle said fondly, reaching out to trace the length of his tie with her fingertip.  "I’m here with you.“

Gold glanced around the room, hoping that no one had seen her action because, if they had, they would jump to exactly the wrong conclusion about the nature of their relationship.  Belle was sitting too close, a necessity in the loud room, and seeing her touch him would only add fuel to the fire of gossip.

"Dance with me?” she suggested when Will and Ana left their seats to head for the dance floor.

With a sardonic look, Gold held up his cane, reminding her of his handicap.  "I don’t dance.“

Belle gave his tie a tug.  "That’s okay.  All you have to do is stand there.  I can make it work.”  

He waved her off, unwilling to humiliate himself by humoring her.  "You go and have fun.  I’ll wait here.“

"Spoilsport.”  

When Belle’s pout failed to change his mind, she left him behind to join her friends, and Gold leaned back in his seat to watch.  With the crowd and the flashing lights, it was hard to keep track of her, but Belle stayed on the periphery of the floor, regularly meeting his eyes with a smile as she danced.

He wasn’t the only man in the Rabbit Hole who was watching her.  Gold ground his teeth as Keith Nottingham came up behind Belle and encircled her with his arms, jerking his pelvis against her in a lewd manner.  When Belle shoved him away, he retreated only to return a song later, his movements even more crudely enthusiastic.

This was the sort of thing he was supposed to be protecting Belle from, which meant that he was shirking his duties.  Before he could come to her rescue, Belle stormed off the dance floor and made her way back to their table, Nottingham hot on her heels.

Gold nearly swallowed his tongue when she deposited herself in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, purring, “Did you miss me?”

Over her shoulder, he could see Nottingham pull a face before the other man disappeared into the crowd.  Clearly, her ploy to dissuade him by feigning an intimate relationship with Gold had worked.  "I think he’s gone.“

Belle shuddered.  "Good.  He’s a creep.”

Even though he’d assured her that Nottingham had given up, Belle made no move to get off his lap.  Instead, she settled herself more comfortably against him and picked up her drink.  

“A lout,” Gold agreed.  "I was getting ready to come to your aid.“

Belle still had one arm wrapped around him, and Gold could feel her fingers playing with the ends of his hair.  "My hero.”

Even when Will and Ana returned, Belle stayed where she was, carrying on a conversation with her friends as naturally as if she was sitting in her own chair.  For his part, Gold was careful to keep one hand on his cane and the other wrapped around his iced tea for fear that he would accidentally touch something he shouldn’t if he didn’t take precautions.  Belle had brought him along to convince other men to keep their hands off of her; she would hardly appreciate him taking liberties himself.

His body was taking a definite interest in her position, but Gold distracted himself by counting the bar’s patrons before matters could get out of hand.  It was nothing more than natural instinct for a man to respond to warmth and pressure against that particular area, but Belle was unlikely to see it that way, and he would rather not offend his assistant.

To that end, he was relieved when she heaved herself off his lap to return to the dance floor.  However, he only had the length of one song to collect himself before Nottingham was back and pawing at Belle.

“Honestly…” Gold grumbled to himself as he got to his feet.  Nottingham was as persistent as a mosquito and twice as irritating.  If being intimidating from halfway across the room wasn’t enough to dissuade him, Gold would have to make sure the other man felt the full force of his personality and his cane if necessary.

Belle’s face lit up when she saw him approach, her look of irritation vanishing.  "Hey!“

He didn’t return her smile as he glowered at Nottingham.  "The lady is with me.”

“I certainly am,” Belle agreed as she looped her arms around his neck and swayed to the beat of the music.

“Let me know when you get bored with Grandpa here.  I’ll be waiting.”  

Gold wasn’t sure if Nottingham’s words were meant to be a threat or not, but he opted to take them as such.  Holding the other man’s gaze, he deliberately lifted his cane.  If the ornate handle and mahogany shaft didn’t remind Nottingham that Gold could afford to buy and sell him a dozen times over, the fact that the cane was a length of solid wood suitable for bashing people over the head might make his point.

“Get bored with him?”  Belle let out a tinkling laugh.  "Never going to happen.“

"Be gone,” Gold advised, gratified when Nottingham faded back into the crowd in search of easier prey.

“Thanks for the rescue.”  Belle smiled up at him, her face flushed from her exertions.

Gold cast a dark look in the direction Nottingham had gone.  "I’m inclined to evict him.“

"He’s a pig.  I’m lucky I had my knight in shining armor to protect me.”  Belle’s fingers brushed the back of his neck as she gently swayed her hips, still keeping the song’s rhythm.  

He had no idea what to do with his hands, so he left them at his sides.  "Hardly that.“

Belle lifted herself onto her toes to speak directly into his ear.  "I think I’ve had enough of the party.  Are you ready to go?”

Angels sang at her pronouncement.  He’d been ready to leave this loud, crowded bar since the moment they arrived.  " _More_ than ready,“ he agreed, his voice fervent.

"Let’s go back to your place.”

A wicked smile crossed Belle’s lips as she took hold of his tie and tugged him toward the Rabbit Hole’s entrance, pausing only long enough to wave at her friends.  Gold followed her eagerly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape.  Peace and quiet and good wine awaited them at his home, and Belle’s quick movements told him that she was looking forward to those things as much as he was.

He’d endured both the party and his interview with Jefferson, and he’d done his duty as Belle’s protector, but now Gold was going to get the chance to actually enjoy himself.  Once they got back to the house, they would retreat to his office and open a bottle of wine as they visited with Archimedes and combed through his library, identifying books they’d both read.  Perhaps Belle could even make some suggestions as to new authors he should try, and he could share his favorites with her.

New Year’s Eve was finally looking up.  


	10. Chapter 10

“Home sweet home,” Belle announced as she stepped through the stained glass door Gold was holding open for her.

By the time he joined her in the Victorian’s foyer, Belle already had her coat off and hanging on the same hook she’d used during her first visit.  As he shrugged off his own overcoat and hung it next to hers, she toed off her shoes, Belle wasting no time in making herself comfortable in his house.

Although she seemed perfectly at home in the Victorian, Gold felt less sanguine.  At the Rabbit Hole, he’d looked forward to an evening of drinking wine and discussing literature with Belle, but now that they were actually at the house, he wasn’t quite sure how to make his vision materialize.  Was he supposed to offer her a drink first or simply escort her to his office?  Would she want to stow her belongings in a guest room before they did anything else?  If so, that was going to be a problem since there was no room ready for her.

Belle, as was her wont, came to his rescue.  "Last time I was here, you promised me a tour of the second floor.“

Although she’d asked for a tour of the upper stories, he’d promised no such thing, but since her statement gave him something specific to do, Gold opted not to argue.  "Of course.  Follow me.”

He couldn’t help but notice that Belle shouldered her overnight bag before following him up the ornate staircase, but he chose not to mention it.  Perhaps his best course of action would be to simply show her all of the available rooms and allow her to choose one for herself.  He might have a housekeeper, but he was more than capable of putting sheets on a bed.

Pleased with his inspiration, Gold took his time in showing her each room, admitting to himself that none of them were particularly welcoming.  Most of the rooms were little more than storage areas for items he’d picked up at sales that hadn’t yet made it to the shop.

Although Belle poked through several of the boxes and exclaimed over one particular canopy bed, her bag stayed firmly on her shoulder.  Clearly, she was expecting something better of him, leaving Gold torn between embarrassment at being so ill-prepared for her visit and irritation that she hadn’t given him any warning that she was planning to spend the night here.  If she’d made him aware of her plans, she wouldn’t have caught him flat-footed.

As he escorted her out of the final guest room, Belle leaned over to examine the door’s old fashioned lock.  "I love little details like this.  It just makes everything seem so cozy.  It must be like living in a book.“

” _Jane Eyre_ perhaps?“ Gold asked drily.

Belle looked up at him through her eyelashes.  "Are you trying to tell me you have a crazy wife locked up in the attic?”

“Don’t be absurd.”  Gold straightened his tie.  "She’s in the basement.“

Belle’s laughter echoed in the quiet hallway, filling a house that too often felt dark and empty to the brim with light.  "I think that’s my favorite thing about you: your sense of humor.”

“It’s a pleasure to have an appreciative audience.”  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a quip for the sole purpose of making someone else laugh.  Usually, his barbs were intended to make the other person feel uncomfortable, unable to tell if he was joking or serious.  Having someone who actually laughed at his little jokes was a rare treat.

“You’re holding out on me.  You haven’t shown me your room yet,” Belle reminded him.

“I was merely saving the best for last,” Gold informed her to cover his consternation.  He’d had no intention of showing Belle his inner sanctum.  There was no reason she should _want_ to see such a private space, but if she was intent on getting the full tour, there could be no real harm in it.

The room was large, but the heavy furniture and drawn draperies made it feel smaller.  Even so, Gold thought the attached sitting area had a real charm to it, and he fully expected Belle to be drawn to the pile of books he kept on a low table for times when he didn’t feel like going downstairs to find something to read.  

Instead, she made a beeline for the bed.  Letting her overnight bag slide to the floor, Belle hopped up to sit on the mattress, running her hands over the burgundy coverlet as she bounced.

“This is fantastic!” she praised before flopping back to lie flat.

“ _So_ comfortable…” she moaned in pleasure, rolling a little from side to side to test the mattress.

Clearing his throat, Gold looked away.  Belle’s movements had caused her already short skirt to ride up even higher, and the sight of so much bare skin on display made his mind stray to places it shouldn’t go.  

Belle was a beautiful, fascinating woman, and right now, she was sprawled across his bed with her skirt rucked up and her legs slightly parted.  Although Gold had no practical experience in the bedroom, he was an avid reader and his imagination worked quite well.  The present situation was enough to spark any number of ideas, and therefore, it was important that he leave this room as quickly as possible.  

“I can’t wait to try this bed out,” Belle announced, and for an instant, his mind went somewhere lurid before he realized what she was saying.  

Was it a social norm now that guests were given the host’s bedroom?  That wasn’t something Gold had ever stumbled across, but he also wasn’t the sort of man who had guests.  Clearly, Belle was expecting to sleep in his bed tonight, so it must be a common practice among her generation.

Actually, it was probably for the best that she take the master bedroom for the night since it would neatly solve the guest room issue.  The sheets were clean, and he’d certainly spent more than one night on the couch in his office when he was too tired or his knee ached too badly to climb the stairs to the second floor.  He’d be perfectly comfortable there tonight.

When Belle sat up, her hair was mussed, and Gold’s mouth went dry at the sight.

“Join me?” she asked, patting the spot next to her.

Friends could sit side by side in an intimate location and think nothing of it, but Gold was aware of his limitations.  For weeks, he’d been doing his best to ignore the fact that he found Belle extremely desirable, but with her sitting on his bed, her hair messy and her legs bare, he could no longer deny the truth.

He wanted Belle.

“I was planning to go open the champagne.”  It was the first excuse that came to mind.  For the sake of Belle’s honor and his dignity, they shouldn’t be alone in this room together.

Belle’s eyes brightened.  "Champagne?  You _did_ put a lot of thought into this evening, didn’t you?“

"We only get a new year once a year.”  It was a nonsensical statement, especially from him since he’d already explained how pointless the idea of celebrating New Year’s Eve was, but fortunately Belle didn’t argue with him.

With his excuse made, Gold made a hasty retreat.  The image of her on his bed was burned into his brain, and he ground his teeth as he descended the stairs, trying to banish it.  Belle was his assistant and friend, not an object to be lusted after.  He wasn’t Malcolm Gold, who saw women as nothing more than toys to be enjoyed and then discarded.  If he couldn’t look at Belle with respect, he didn’t deserve to look at her at all.

No doubt she would be appalled if she knew what he was thinking, and that thought helped to cool his ardor.  Belle had been furious with him before, and it wasn’t an experience he was keen to repeat.  She was beautiful and brilliant, so it was right for him to admire her the way he would a piece of art.  He could appreciate her mind and her form without sullying that admiration by letting base desire sneak in.  He wouldn’t disrespect her by lusting after her.

Satisfied with the compromise he’d reached, Gold took his time standing in front of the open refrigerator door, letting the cold air wash over his body.  Once he felt as though he’d regained full control of his impulses, he retrieved the bottle of champagne from the bottom shelf and wrapped it in a towel before gently popping the cork.

With two flutes of champagne in hand, he made his way into the living room where the house’s sole television set waited.  It took him a few minutes to find the remote and several more to find the correct station to watch the ball drop.  To his eyes, the program looked ridiculous.  The performers were wearing far too much makeup and far too little clothing in the cold weather of a New York winter night, but Belle had expressed an interest in seeing the centerpiece of the evening, and he was willing to tolerate it to please her.  If nothing else, it was a distraction from her loveliness.

“Nachton?”  Belle’s voice floated down the stairs.  "Are you coming back?“

"I’m in the living room.  It’s nearly midnight, and you wanted to watch the ball drop.”  According to the countdown on the screen, there were less than twenty minutes to go before midnight.

He could hear her laughter slowly coming closer.  

“Silly,” Belle said fondly as she rounded the corner from the hall into the living room.  Something about her appearance had changed from the time he’d left her upstairs.  Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her lips seemed somehow fuller and darker.

Careful not to look too close, Gold offered her one of the flutes.  "I hope you like the champagne.“

” _Everybody_ likes champagne,“ she assured him, but instead of taking a swallow, Belle put the glass down and looked at him critically.

"It’s almost midnight, and you’re still wearing a three piece suit.  Don’t you want to get more comfortable?” she suggested.

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” Gold assured her.  Since he wore a three piece suit every day of his life, by now it felt like a second skin.

“Are you?  Is this what you wear at all hours of the day and night?  Do you sleep in your suits or do you own pajamas?”  Without waiting for a response, Belle took hold of his jacket’s lapels and started to ease him out of the article of clothing.

“Of course I own pajamas.”  His tone was more acerbic than he’d intended, but the sensation of Belle undressing him, even if it was just to get him out of his suit coat, was throwing him off balance.

“You’ll have to model them for me later.”  As soon as she had his jacket off and draped over the back of a chair, Belle went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.

Gold froze, realizing belatedly that he was sucking in his stomach, which was a foolish thing to do.  Looking a few pounds slimmer was unlikely to be the deciding factor in Belle finding him attractive, and even if by some miracle she _was_ attracted to him, it could go nowhere.   She might be able to ignore his myriad personality flaws and physical shortcomings, but his lack of romantic experience was an insurmountable obstacle.  He was fifty-one years old, and he wouldn’t know how to touch her if she wanted him to.  If Belle knew that, she’d laugh herself sick.

So lost was he in his thoughts that he cooperated automatically as Belle stripped off his waistcoat before her clever fingers found the knot of his tie.  "How long does it take you to get dressed in the morning?“

Her question caught him off guard.  "I don’t know.  I’ve never timed myself.”

Without her shoes, Belle stood only a little higher than the point of his chin, and he wasn’t a tall man.  Her personality was so large that he hadn’t noticed just how physically tiny she was until that moment.  Maybe that was why she favored such absurdly high heels.  "Are you self conscious about being so short?“

When Belle raised her eyebrows and deliberately pulled the knot of his tie tight enough to restrict his breathing, he realized that had sounded more like an insult than a genuine question.  Reaching up, he loosened the knot before defending himself.  "I meant no offense.  I was just thinking about your shoes.”

This time, she only quirked one eyebrow.  "Do you have a thing about shoes?“

He spent so much time teasing her that it was no wonder she thought he disapproved of her shoes.  "I have no objection to your shoes other than to fear you’re going to break your ankle.”

She snickered.  "I’ve seen the world in high heels.  I think I can navigate the streets of Storybrooke.“

"I’ve always wished I was taller.  I simply wondered if you felt the same.”  He’d never confided that secret to anyone, and Gold couldn’t imagine what had motivated him to do so now.

Belle’s eyes softened at his confession.  "I think you’re the perfect height.“

Looping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself against him in a friendly embrace.  "See?  You’re just the right size.  If you were taller, I’d have to stand on a step ladder to hug you.”

Although Belle wasn’t shy about touching him, he couldn’t imagine that not being able to hug him would be a large problem in her life.  Even so, her words warmed him.  "I suppose you’re right.“

"I’m _always_ right.”  She stepped back and held his gaze as she finished undoing his tie and pulled it free, draping it around her own neck to get it out of the way as she undid the first few buttons on his shirt.  

Somehow, it felt both completely natural and utterly terrifying to have Belle undress him, and Gold cleared his throat as he stepped back.  "Yes, thank you.  I’m much more comfortable now.“

"You still have your shoes on,” she reminded him.

With an aggravated sigh that he didn’t mean in the slightest, Gold deposited himself on the couch and bent to pull off his shoes, leaving his feet in their striped cashmere socks for warmth.  Even though he’d fussed at the idea of removing a few of his layers, he had to admit that Belle had been right: he was more comfortable without them.

Her eyes sparkled as she sat down beside him.  "You know, for you, you’re practically naked.  I’ve never seen you in less than twenty-seven layers.“

"I don’t have the legs for one of your short little skirts,” he retorted, his voice dry.

“You’ve been checking out my skirts?”  Belle mimed an exaggerated look of surprise.  "How naughty.“

If he denied it, she would only tease him more, but if he agreed, he might be overstepping.  Since there was no correct response to her words, Gold opted to ignore them.  "Don’t forget about your champagne.”

Belle picked up her glass and held it up for a toast.  "Here’s to a Happy New Year.“

There was no harm in drinking to that sentiment.  "Cheers.”

The wine fizzed against the roof of his mouth, tickling his nose as he swallowed.  Fighting the urge to sneeze, he hastily put down his glass, aware that Belle hadn’t taken her eyes off of him as she sampled her own champagne.

On the television screen, a band he didn’t recognize was performing a song he’d never heard before and would be happy to never hear again.  According to the countdown, it was two minutes to midnight.

“Do you have a New Year’s resolution?” Belle asked as she tucked her legs under her and leaned against his side to get more comfortable.

Since she knew perfectly well that he wasn’t the sort of man to make resolutions, he could only assume that she was teasing him and responded in kind.

“I plan to start training for a marathon.”  Considering his cane, it was the most ludicrous resolution he could think of on short notice.

With a snicker, Belle prodded him in the side.  "What _kind_ of marathon, Nachton?“

It was impossible that she hadn’t gotten the joke, so she had to be setting him up for something.  As gracefully as he could, Gold redirected the conversation to avoid her trap.  "What about you?  What’s your resolution?”

“To make you laugh more often,” she replied unexpectedly.

Gold had no idea what to do with that, but fortunately the final minute of the year was ticking away, distracting Belle from the conversation.  She leaned forward to place her glass of champagne on the coffee table, then rested her head on his shoulder, counting along with the people on the screen.  "Ten.  Nine.  Eight.“

Even Gold had to admit that the ball, with its crystal panels and vibrant lights, looked fetching as it slowly descended until it reached the base of the pole, touching off a pyrotechnics display.

As the performers launched into a rendition of "Auld Lang Syne,” Belle reached up to take hold of the sides of his face, tugging him down.  "Happy New Year, Nachton!“

"Happy New Year.”  For once, the sentiment didn’t feel forced.  He did hope that Belle had a very happy year.  

When he tried to sit back, Belle tightened her grip, holding him in place.  "It’s bad luck not to kiss at midnight.“

First it had been bad luck to take down the Christmas decorations before Epiphany, and now it was bad luck not to kiss at midnight.  Either Belle was extremely superstitious, or she was happy to make up arbitrary rules to get him to do what she wanted.

Since there was no reason she should want him to kiss her, Gold could only assume his assistant was superstitious.

Belle was looking at him expectantly, but she would have better luck getting Archimedes to talk than getting him to do whatever she had in mind.  The first time they kissed, it was easy.  Belle simply pressed her lips to his out of the blue, meaning that he didn’t have time to think about it.  Now, she was stroking the line of his jaw with her thumb and _looking_ at him, and he didn’t have the slightest idea what he was supposed to do.

In theory, Gold understood how kissing worked.  It was simply the practical application of that knowledge that confounded him.  If he leaned straight down, he would crunch his nose against hers, so he needed to tilt his head, but which way was he supposed to tilt it?  If he tilted to the right and Belle tilted to the left, they would have the same nose problem.  

Since the kiss was meant to be a symbolic welcoming of the new year, it should be quick and light, but how quick and light was appropriate?  Should he aim for the same pressure and duration of their mistletoe kiss or had that been longer and harder than she’d intended because he’d thrown her off by turning his head at the last moment?  

"Nachton…” Belle breathed, then she was applying gentle pressure to the side of his face, and Gold found his head tilting and his eyes closing as she leaned closer.

He held his breath as Belle’s mouth touched his, careful to keep his hands at his sides.  Instead of simply brushing against him and pulling away, Belle leaned into the kiss, her lips parted slightly so that his bottom lip slipped between hers.  There she lingered, letting him feel the warm rush of her breath against his lip, the sensation sending chills down his spine.

Confused, Gold opened his eyes, somehow surprised to find Belle so close even though their mouths were still touching.  Her eyes were softly closed, her expression peaceful, and it seemed wrong to look at her when she wasn’t aware of his scrutiny.  He took a shaky breath through his nose as he let his eyelids fall closed again, and Belle made a little noise in the back of her throat.

His toes curled helplessly against the hardwood floor at the sound, Gold’s focus narrowing to the feel of Belle’s lips against his and the warmth of her hands on his face.  To his shock and delight, she applied a little more pressure to the kiss, sucking lightly on his bottom lip.  The sensation set every one of his nerve endings alight, leaving him aware of his body in a way that he’d never been before.  It was as though he’d been asleep his entire life, but now, with Belle’s hands on his face and her lips pressed against his, he was suddenly, gloriously awake.

It was the single most exquisite moment of his life, and it ended far too soon.  Before he was anywhere near ready to surrender the taste of Belle’s lips, she sat back and let her hands fall from his face.  "There.   _Now_ it’s a happy New Year.“

It had been a kiss meant to ensure luck in the coming year, nothing more.  Gold reminded himself of that fact as he opened his eyes, his spirit feeling bruised.  Belle hadn’t meant to be cruel, but it hurt to be given a taste of something wonderful only to have it taken away again.  It had been easier to live without things like kissing when he didn’t know what he was missing.  Now, thanks to her, he did.

Belle clearly didn’t feel any awkwardness because she was still pressed against his side, and her eyes were bright.  "So… what should we do now?”

Picking up his glass of champagne, Gold took a healthy swig as his mind raced.  He very much wanted to suggest they share another kiss, but that would be overstepping the boundaries of their relationship in an unforgivable way.  

“You wanted to visit Archimedes.”  At the moment, he felt a bit deflated, but there was no reason this evening couldn’t be salvaged.  Originally, he’d planned for them to enjoy his pet and discuss literature.  They could still do just that, and there was no better way to ring in the New Year.  

As he switched off the television, Belle blinked at him like he’d spoken in a foreign language.  "What?“

"He’s in my office.  I’ll escort you.”  Belle had only been in the house once, so she probably didn’t remember the layout of the first floor.

“Okay.”  She picked up their glasses and followed him as he led the way, her gaze boring into the back of his neck.

When he switched on the light in his office, Archimedes gave his tail a lazy swish of greeting.  "I brought Belle to visit you.  I know you’ve missed her.“

"Hey, little guy,” Belle crossed to the betta with a smile, leaning down to look at him more closely.  In response, Archimedes turned to face her, his tail twitching eagerly.

As Belle and Archimedes got reacquainted, Gold looked over the nearest set of bookshelves, looking for something he could use to spark a conversation.  Eventually, he decided on _The Mother Tongue_ , thinking it would lead to an interesting discussion about the evolution of the English language.  

When Belle looked up from the fish tank, he was ready.  "Have you read Bryson?“

To his surprise, she gave the book only a cursory glance, opting instead to look into his face, her expression serious.  "Nachton, I think we need to have a conversation.”

Her words were unlikely to portend anything good.

“About?”  

She gave him an exasperated look that Gold found unjustified.  He’d been on his best behavior tonight.  Although Belle had clearly taken issue with something, he didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d done to offend her sensibilities.

Sighing, she took a seat on the couch.  Patting the cushion beside her, she invited him to join her, and after an instant of hesitation, Gold did as she asked.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she began, putting her hand on his knee.  "I think it’s really cute that you’re shy.  I just thought, maybe, we could get on the same page with our timelines.“

"What?”  He’d never given her any cause to think he was shy, so he must have misunderstood her use of the word.  And no one in his life had ever called him ‘cute’ before.

“If you want to take it slow, I’m okay with that.  I’m not a stickler for the third date rule, and I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship either.  But I do think it’s time we made _some_ progress, don’t you?”  Belle looked up at him, her face hopeful.

None of the words she’d used were particularly complicated, but Gold couldn’t make heads or tails out of them.  "I’m not sure what you’re saying.“

Belle patted his leg.  "Look, if you don’t want to have sex tonight, that’s fine.  But if you keep running away every time we kiss, I’m going to get a complex.”

He would have been less surprised to be suddenly struck by lightning.  There was no way Belle was saying what Gold thought he was hearing, but there was no other way to interpret her words.

Sex.  Tonight.  Presumably with her.

He _had_ to have misunderstood.

“ _What?_ ”


	11. Chapter 11

“ _What?_ ”

The echo of Gold’s startled exclamation hung in the air as Belle gazed up at him, her face puzzled.  

“What?”  She parroted his outburst in a more moderate tone, sounding completely lost.

Gold’s mind raced as they stared at each other— Belle confused and him aghast.  He’d misunderstood something, misunderstood it in such a fundamental way that he’d convinced himself that his assistant was suggesting they go to bed together.  It was unthinkable, but it was suddenly the only thing he could think about, his memory recalling the image of Belle sprawled across his bed with her skirt hiked up to bare her thighs to his hungry gaze.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Belle asked as she reached out to touch the side of his face.  "Nachton, are you all right?  You look like you’re about to keel over.“

He was dreaming.  That was the only possible explanation.  He’d accidentally gotten into Jefferson’s tea, and now he was hallucinating.  Nothing else made sense.

"Nachton?”  Belle said his name again, sounding truly worried now, and Gold shook his head in an attempt to clear it, causing her to take her hand back.

“I’m fine.”  Out of Belle’s sight, he pinched his upper thigh hard enough to bruise, the sensation assuring him that he was awake enough to register pain.

He wasn’t dreaming, and that meant that he’d misunderstood Belle in a colossal way.  It would be wise to sort this out before he made any more of an ass of himself.  

Replaying their conversation in his head got him nowhere.  There was no other way to interpret her words unless ‘third date rule’ meant something very different to Belle’s generation than it had to his own.  

If pictures of eggplants could have secret double meanings, maybe that phrase could too.  Right now, clarifying seemed to be his best hope of making any sense out of this.  "What do you mean by 'third date rule’?“

Belle glanced down, her face flushing a little.  "Oh, come on.  You’re not _that_ much older than me.  You have to have heard that before.”

“Never,” he lied.  If the phrase had changed its meaning over the last few decades, it was safer to feign ignorance.

“You’re killing me, Nachton,” she muttered before lifting her head to look him squarely in the eye.  "It’s traditional for a couple to have sex on their third date.“

No, the meaning hadn’t changed.

Gold wondered when exactly he’d lost his mind.  It was easier to imagine himself locked in a padded room and talking to a hallucination than it was to believe that he was actually sitting opposite his assistant, Belle calmly informing him that since it was their third date, it would be appropriate for them to have sex.

If this was their third date, when the hell were the _first_ two?  True, they’d gone out to dinner twice before, but those were simply friendly meals, not dates.  Belle had been very clear about that when she suggested he join her for Chinese food.  

A chill ran down Gold’s spine as a horrible idea presented itself.  Belle couldn’t really believe that he was the sort of man who would expect her to repay him with sex, could she?  After two months, his assistant should know him better than that, but it was the only thing that made sense.  When seen from that perspective, there had been three separate incidents that she might be counting as 'dates.’  First, in a fit of confused generosity, he’d given her the Oz books.  Second, he’d bought her dinner at Tony’s, and third, he’d escorted her to the Rabbit Hole tonight and defended her honor against Nottingham.  

It was horrifying to think that Belle assumed he’d done those things just so she would spread her legs for him.  Even if he’d been the sort of man who indulged in casual flings, it would have sickened him to reduce their relationship to a mere series of transactions.  He enjoyed Belle’s company for its own merits, not as a means to an end, and it offended him that she should believe otherwise.

He raised his chin, gathering his tattered dignity.  "Tonight was _not_ our third date.  Nor was there a first or a second date.  Nothing we have done together constitutes a date.”

Instead of looking relieved that he wasn’t holding her to some archaic code of sexual behavior, Belle’s eyebrows drew together.  "Excuse me?“

"I desire nothing from you save for your friendship,” he assured her.  "As your employer, it would be completely inappropriate for us to date.“

"That’s probably something you should have thought about before you started _dating_ me,”  Belle snapped, her eyes flashing fire.  

He’d seen Belle angry often enough to recognize the signs, but Gold couldn’t begin to understand what she had to be angry about right now.  She was the one who’d insulted him by assuming he was trying to procure her sexual favors.

She took a deep breath.  "If this is one of your jokes, it’s not funny.“

"I value your friendship too much to joke about it.”  Even if she thought the worst of him, he still preferred her company to any other.   _Everyone_ in Storybrooke thought the worst of him.  He could live with it.

It anything, his words only made her look more upset.  "You’ve been flirting with me since the day I started working for you.  You’re constantly checking out my legs.  Tonight you snarled every time another guy even talked to me because you were jealous.  And now you’re saying you’re not interested?  What the _hell_ , Nachton?“

Her accusations stung.  "I don’t flirt.  And I only snarled because you asked me to keep drunken louts from bothering you.”

He couldn’t deny looking at her legs, although he’d hoped she hadn’t noticed.

Belle was looking at him as though she’d never seen him before.  "You’re serious,“ she murmured, sounding sick.

She drew back into the corner of the sofa, wrapping her arms around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.  "Oh my god.”

“Belle?”  His assistant looked dangerously pale, her face drawn and pinched, and the sight made Gold’s own stomach churn.  He hadn’t meant to upset her.  Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he’d done.  All he’d meant to do was assure her that he had no designs upon her body, but Belle was hunched over like he’d punched her in the stomach.

She shook her head without looking up.  "This whole time… I was just seeing what I wanted to see.  God, I’ve been _throwing_ myself at you, and you… Excuse me.“  

Abruptly, she stood and fled the room, leaving Gold staring after her.  A moment later, he heard the bathroom door slam closed, and Archimedes turned in his tank to look at him, the fish’s expression accusing.

"I didn’t say anything,” Gold defended himself.  Everyone was acting like he was the villain of the piece, but for once, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

What the hell was going on?  Instead of looking relieved that he wasn’t planning to make any demands on her, Belle had looked devastated.  Her miserable expression as she fled the room was so far removed from the flushed and happy look on her face as she bounced on his bed that it seemed like the two events had happened in separate lifetimes.

Gold swallowed hard as he started to connect a few dots.

Belle had looked happy when she was bouncing on his bed.  She’d all but demanded that he kiss her at midnight, and she’d been in good spirits when she suggested they go to bed together.  It wasn’t until he told her that he wanted no such thing that the light in her eyes had died.

Oh hell.

Gold doubled over as the reality of the situation hit him with the force of a speeding train.  Belle hadn’t offered him sex because she thought he was keeping a tab.  She’d offered because she _wanted_ to have sex with him.  She’d invited him to the Rabbit Hole, not because she needed his protection, but because she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with him.  In her eyes, their friendly dinners had been dates.  Belle thought they were dating.

And he’d just thrown it all back in her face.

Gold rubbed his hand over his face, marveling at his own stupidity.  It was as though he’d been blindfolded for the past two months, but now the veil had been ripped away.  With new eyes, he reexamined every time Belle had teased him or touched him or invited him to spend time with her, seeing those moments clearly for the first time.  She’d accused him of flirting with her, but the truth was that she’d been flirting with him for months.  He’d just been too blind to see it.  

Nor had she drawn the line at just flirting.  When he didn’t pick up on her hints, Belle had set out to get what she wanted in spite of his lack of response.  She’d maneuvered him into joining her for dinner by telling him that it was perfectly natural for friends to eat together and persuaded him to offer up an invitation of his own by making him feel like he was in her debt by paying for his meal.

She’d manipulated him into dating her.  She’d pulled his strings and made him dance to her tune, and he’d never even noticed it was happening.

God, she was _perfect_.

Gold shook his head in wonder at her brilliance.  Belle was his equal in every way.  She was every bit as intelligent and ruthless as he was— his ideal match.  He’d been taken with her from the moment they met, and now he knew why.  Not only was she unafraid to stand up to him, she could effortlessly outmaneuver him too.  They were two of a kind, a perfect team.

Even more astonishingly, she seemed to feel the same way about him.  Gold had been content to admire her from a distance, certain that she could never reciprocate his interest, but he’d been living a lie.  His feelings weren’t unrequited at all.

“I think Belle likes me.  I mean romantically,” he informed Archimedes, trying the words out for himself.

The fish flicked his tail impatiently, giving Gold the impression that he wasn’t telling his pet anything that Archimedes didn’t already know.

This was what he’d wanted all his life.  From the time he was old enough to understand what love was, he’d dreamed of the woman who would be his other half, and he’d waited a lifetime to meet her.  In Belle, he’d finally found his mate.

It was cruel of the universe to wait until it was too late.

In despair, Gold slumped back against the couch.  Tonight, Belle had made it very clear what she wanted from him.  Even when she told him that she didn’t mind taking things slow, it had been obvious that she expected they would eventually go to bed together, even if they didn’t do it tonight.  She had expectations that he couldn’t live up to and needs that he didn’t know how to fulfill.

Belle thought he was a man of the world, but none of his reading had prepared him for something like this.  Had he been younger, perhaps he could have learned with her guidance, but he was fifty-one years old, and he’d never laid a hand on a woman.  It was laughable.   _He_ was laughable.

She desired the man she thought he was.  If she knew the truth, that desire would evaporate, if it hadn’t already in the face of the callous way he’d treated her tonight.  No doubt, it was better that way.  If they attempted to pursue a relationship, he would only humiliate himself and disappoint her.  

Gold picked up his champagne and downed the rest of the glass to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth.  In seeking to not follow in his father’s footsteps, he’d gone too far in the opposite direction, handicapping himself, and his lack of experience in the bedroom was only half of the problem.  He had no idea how to be in a romantic relationship, and he couldn’t expect Belle to teach him how to be her partner the same way she’d taught him how to text.  Even if she was willing to try, he was far too old to learn such things.

He was an old man, too set in his ways to change now.   With any luck, he and Belle would be able to put tonight behind them and continue their friendship.  If not, his life would go on in much the same way it had before he met her.  Gold knew how to be alone.  By this point, he was good at it.  He would live out the rest of his solitary life and put his memories of Belle in a box next to Bae— the two people he’d cared about too much and let slip through his fingers.

The sound of high heels clicking against the floor made him jerk his head up to see Belle step into the room, her face carefully composed.  She’d put her shoes back on, and her bag was once again on her shoulder.  "I would appreciate it if you drove me home.“

Gold winced at her flat tone.  Even on the night they met, she hadn’t looked at him like this.  He could have been a piece of furniture for all the interest she was showing in him.  Her face was a mask, her expressive eyes devoid of emotion.  

He’d wronged her, and the fact that he hadn’t done so deliberately was rather beside the point.  Belle was standing on the other side of the room, but it felt like she was a thousand miles away, and if he wanted to salvage their friendship, the least he could do was apologize.  "I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She waved off his words without making eye contact.  "I’m not upset, just a bit… humiliated.  Don’t worry about it.  I’ll get over it.“

Awkwardly, Gold pushed himself to his feet.  It was tempting to take her at her word, but even he could recognize how weak his apology had been.  It didn’t sit right with him to allow her to continue to feel distressed if he could alleviate some of her unhappiness.  

Not quite daring to approach her, Gold stayed where he was, conscious that Archimedes was still staring at him.  At this rate, he should let the fish do the talking.  His pet could hardly do worse than he was.  "I want you to know that none of this is any reflection on you.  I think you’re wonderful.”

Belle pressed her lips together and turned her head sharply to the side.  "Please stop trying to make me feel better.“

He was making a hash of this, and it was just another reason why he had no business attempting to start a relationship with her.  In situations like this, he was hopeless-- useless.

Taking a deep breath, he tried again to console her, "The problem lies with me, not with you.  I’m incapable of giving you what you want.”

“Oh?”  

When Belle finally looked at him, Gold willed her to accept his words.  It wasn’t right that she should blame herself for any of this.  She was perfection, everything he’d ever wanted, and in another universe, they could be in his bed right now, the new year the start of a new life, one where Belle would be forever by his side.

He wished he lived in that universe instead of this one.

“Oh!”  Belle’s eyes went wide with surprise at whatever she read in his expression.  "Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize… I should have realized.  I’m sorry.“

"Realized what?”  There should have been no way she could read his mind and discover his secret, but Belle was proving to be full of surprises tonight.

“That you’re gay,” she explained.

Gold choked on his own saliva.  "Ah…"

For an insane moment, he was tempted to agree.  If Belle thought their sexualities were incompatible, it would take away any sting of rejection.  They could reclaim their easy friendship with no shadow hanging over them.  Then again, if she thought he was gay, she might make a project of finding him a boyfriend, and her good intentions would quickly turn their lives into a stage farce.

“I should have realized sooner,” Belle said earnestly.  "Those impeccable suits of yours… and you were always so interested in my shoes.  I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable.  Are you out?  If you’re not, you can trust my discretion.“

Gold sat back down, his knees feeling a little watery.  Immediately, Belle dropped her bag and moved to sit next to him, her face full of friendly concern.  "Nachton?  It’s okay.  It’s not a big deal.  I’m not going to think of you any differently.  I mean, I’ll quit throwing myself at you, which you’re probably glad about, but it doesn’t _change_ anything.”

She patted his leg.  "Come on.  It’s okay.  You know I can keep a secret.  Jefferson still doesn’t know your first name.“

Under any other circumstances, Gold would have been delighted to have their old camaraderie back, but they hadn’t actually resolved anything.  This harmony was based on a misunderstanding, and if he allowed the misunderstanding to continue, it would only lead to further problems later when Belle learned the truth.

His tongue uncooperative, he forced out, "I’m not gay.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Belle assured him, clearly not believing his denial.  

“I know.”  His aunties had been the best women he’d ever known, and they would have adored Belle.  

Steeling himself, he tried again.  "If I was gay, I wouldn’t deny it.  I’m just… not.“

Belle searched his face for a moment before she withdrew her hand.  "I see.  I misunderstood what you were saying.  I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.  Again.”

He wished she would stop apologizing to him.  Belle had done nothing wrong.  "None of this is your fault.“

Her mouth twisted, but she didn’t argue with him.  Instead, Belle cast a long look at the door to his office before reluctantly turning to face him again.  "Let’s just pretend tonight didn’t happen, okay?  You can take me home, and when I come in to work on Monday, we’ll start over.  Clean slate.”

He’d hurt her, however unintentionally, but Belle was still offering him a gracious reprieve.  He didn’t deserve an inch of her, but for some reason, she liked him well enough to have gone to the effort of pursuing him.  In another life, they could have been truly happy together, and the unfairness of it all threatened to choke him.

“I wish things could be different,” he said helplessly.

Belle held up her hand to silence him.  "Don’t.  It’s fine.  You’re not interested.  I can live with that.  I shouldn’t have gotten angry.“

For once, Belle didn’t know what she was talking about.  He _was_ interested, desperately so.  All his life, Gold had abstained from sex because he wanted it to mean something.  In her arms, he rather thought it could mean everything.  Why had the universe waited until he was an old man to bring Belle into his life?

"I didn’t meant to hurt you.”  If nothing else, he hoped she could believe that.

“I know you didn’t.”  Belle shook her head.  "I blamed you for leading me on, but you didn’t, not really.  I led myself on.“

"If only I wasn’t your employer…” Even as he said the words, Gold knew they were foolish. Their business relationship made a romantic relationship inappropriate, but even if Belle was just a newcomer to town who wandered into the shop one day and boldly asked him out on a date, it wouldn’t have changed anything.  She was a sophisticated woman, and he was a fifty-one year old virgin.  Those facts were immutable.

“ _Please_ don’t make excuses,” she begged, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger.  "We both know that doesn’t have anything to do with it.“

"As your employer, I have authority over you.  It would be inappropriate for anything to develop between us when you rely on me for your livelihood.”  If she believed their business relationship was what was constraining him, perhaps it would hurt her less than to think that there was something about her he found objectionable.

Belle looked at him in disbelief.  "My _livelihood_?  Nachton, you know I just work for you for fun, right?“

The ridiculous wage he paid her belied her protest, and Gold finally felt like he was back on firmer footing.  He was no good at discussing emotions or relationships, but he knew how to talk about money.  "You were very specific about your salary demands.”

She shrugged.  "Well, yeah, I know what I’m worth.  But it’s not like I need the money.  Our parents left us a substantial inheritance, and my brother is _very_ good at investing.  I only took the job because I wanted something to do while Grace was at school.“  

Her sharp look made him realize that he’d misstepped.  "Is _that_ what this is all about?  You don’t want to date me because I work for you?”

In seeking to reassure her, he’d inadvertently undermined his own position.  Gold hastened to regroup.  "I’m fifty-one years old.  I wouldn’t know how to date if I wanted to.“

Belle’s lips quirked in a small smile.  "Well, you’ve been doing okay the last couple of weeks.”

With a sigh, she let her shoulders slump.  "You don’t need to make excuses.  It’s okay that you’re just not into me.  I mean, I don’t _like_ it, but it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it.  So… just stop, okay?  I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working.“

"Belle…”  No matter how hard he tried to comfort her, he was just making things worse, and the frustration made Gold want to bash his head against a wall.  If he couldn’t reassure her, the smart thing to do would be to just let the matter drop as she’d repeatedly asked, but he couldn’t seem to do that either.  Instead, they were going around in circles, and he didn’t see any way out.

“Any man would be lucky to have you,” he blurted.  " _I_ would be lucky to have you.  I just… _can’t_.“

Belle’s lips twitched in a sad smile.  "Crazy wife in the basement, right?”

“Something like that.”  

When she reached up to fiddle with her necklace, his eyes tracked the movement.  He’d given her that.  He’d been the one to fasten it around her neck for the first time.  At the time, he’d tried not to touch her while he did it, but now Gold wondered if she hadn’t been inviting his touch.

What a mess.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.  But if there’s something you want to tell me, just say it, Nachton.  Otherwise, please take me home.  I’d call a cab, but I assume you’d prefer it if no one saw me leaving your house at two in the morning.”  Belle let her hand drop and looked him square in the face, leaving the ball in his court.

The possibility of telling her the truth had never crossed Gold’s mind.  His virginity was something Belle didn’t need to know about him.  No doubt she would find him ridiculous if she knew, and he had too much pride to open himself up to her ridicule.

Belle looked miserable.

From the moment he met her, she’d been full of light and life.  Belle’s ready laugh and the sparkle in her eyes had become constants in his life, but now her laughter was gone, and it was his fault.  At least if he told her the truth, she would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that his rejection was truly nothing personal.  There was nothing wrong with her, nothing at all.  

Over her shoulder, Archimedes was staring at him, the fish’s tail twitching meaningfully.   _Fix this_ , his pet seemed to be saying, and that hardened his resolve.

If Belle laughed at him, so be it.  He would rather endure her mockery than her misery.

“I’m a virgin.”


	12. Chapter 12

Gold braced himself for Belle’s laughter, but to his surprise, she merely rolled her eyes at his confession.  "I know you’re trying to lighten the mood, but knock it off.  I’m trying to have a serious conversation.  I’m not up for one of your jokes right now."

He wasn’t sure if Belle thought his sense of humor was better than it actually was or worse, but either way, she’d unwittingly given him a way to retract his confession without arousing suspicion.  All he had to do was agree that he’d been making a joke, and his secret would be safe once again.

He looked away, finding himself making eye contact with Archimedes, who seemed to be glaring, and Gold ducked his head as he accepted the betta’s silent rebuke.  If he dismissed his words as a joke, his secret would be safe, but Belle would still be miserable.

It wasn’t worth it.

"I’m being completely serious.”  It was no easier to say the words a second time.  Instead, Gold would have felt less exposed had he stripped naked in front of her.  

Belle looked up impatiently.  "You have a _son_ ," she reminded him.

Gold winced at her words.  Since he’d allowed her to believe a falsehood about Bae, it was no wonder that she didn’t believe him now.  He’d lied only by omission, but he was still paying the price for misleading her.  "Bae isn't—wasn't—mine.  Not biologically.  I raised him, but I didn’t father him.”

Belle jerked back slightly, blinking.  "Okay, that’s kind of an important distinction.  You didn’t mention that part before."

"I didn’t consider it any of your business,” he snapped, instantly regretting the words.  It was his nature to snarl when he felt vulnerable, but snarling at her was counterproductive if he was trying to make her feel better.

Instead of stooping to his level and striking back, she smiled ruefully.  "That’s fair.  Guess I wasted some money on that DNA kit, didn’t I?  No wonder you were less than enthusiastic.  You must’ve thought I was an idiot."

If she could be magnanimous, so could he.  "It was a very kind gesture.  I thought so at the time.  It’s not your fault that it’s useless.  You jumped to a logical conclusion, and I made no effort to correct you.”

“It’s the thought that counts, right?”  Belle’s mouth twisted into a half smile.  

“That was the first present anyone has given me in decades.”  Whether he liked the gift or not, the mere fact that she’d given him a Christmas present at all was a miraculous thing.

“Hell,” she muttered as she dropped her gaze to her hands.  

After a moment she looked up, searching his face.  "You’re serious, aren’t you?"

"Completely,” he bit out.  It was said that confession was good for the soul, but all confiding in Belle was doing was making him feel dizzy and half-sick.  To add insult to injury, her mood didn’t seem to have improved either, meaning that all of this strife was pointless.

“You’ve never…”  Belle trailed off and licked her lips before trying again.  " _Never_?  Really?"

"Never,” he confirmed.   _Now_ she would laugh.  It was inevitable.

Puffing her cheeks out, she exhaled slowly and shook her head.  "You’re a virgin.  Okay.  That actually explains a lot."

Gold had heard that sentiment far too many times over the course of his life, and hearing it from Belle set his teeth on edge.  He would have preferred to have her laugh at him rather than to know that she agreed with Milah and his father.

"Oh yes, it explains _everything_ ,” he agreed, bitterness thick in his mouth.  "My uptight nature.  My repellent personality.  My foul temper.  If I just ‘got laid,’ it would fix all of my many defects."

"Whoa.”  Belle held her hands up defensively.  "That’s not what I said."

"It’s what you meant.”  Even if she hadn’t said the words, it didn’t matter.  He’d heard it all before.

“ _No_ , it _wasn’t_.”  For an instant, Belle reached out to him before hastily aborting the movement and returning her hands to her lap where she clenched them together.  "Have people said that sort of thing to you before?"

"I’ve heard it enough.”  There were reasons he didn’t make a habit of sharing his secret.  Somehow, he’d expected Belle to be different.

“Well, you’re not going to hear it from me,” she declared, her words short-circuiting his spiraling thoughts.

When he looked at her warily, Belle tried to smile.  "For starters, I don’t think you have any defects that need to be fixed, and even if you did, it’s not like sex is some magical cure-all."

"You frequently call attention to my faults.”  Belle had never been shy about letting him know when he didn’t live up to her standards.

“Yeah, well…”  Reaching out with her foot, she nudged his ankle.  "You’re kind of an asshole sometimes.  It’s one of the things I like about you."

Her words were so unexpected that Gold found himself laughing in spite of himself, the sound tinged with hysteria.  Some of the light had returned to Belle’s eyes, and she was treating him just the same as she had before she learned his secret.  Perhaps there was hope for their friendship after all.  

"If that’s not what you meant, what _did_ you mean?”  Based on the events of the evening, it seemed that they regularly got their wires crossed when they tried to communicate.  He would be wise to keep that in mind in the future.

“I just meant that explains why you were acting so shy.  I’d catch you checking me out and give you the green light, but you never _did_ anything about it.”  Belle smiled ruefully.  "I didn’t get it before, but I do now."

"I see.”  Gold wished he was still wearing his tie so he could fiddle with it.  Instead, he adjusted the rolled cuff of his shirtsleeve, his nausea starting to abate.  He felt as though he’d been dangling over the side of a cliff, but he was back on solid ground now, Belle beside him.  He’d told her his secret, and not only hadn’t she laughed, she didn’t seem to think any less of him.

“So… you’ve just never felt the urge?  No interest?”

He inhaled a mouthful of saliva at her blunt question, the subsequent coughing spell saving him from having to answer.  Belle scooted closer to pound him on the back, and the warmth of her next to him reassured him as he caught his breath.  He hadn’t realized how often she touched him until she stopped doing it, and the loss of those little touches had thrown him completely off balance.

“I have… urges,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster, feeling sweat trickling down the side of his face.  "My desires are the same as any other man.  I simply have the self-control not to act on them."

Belle flinched back.  "Okay.  I'm feeling a little judged right now.”

He had no idea what he’d said to offend her.  "How so?"

Putting more distance between them, she returned to her corner of the couch.  "I have urges and I _do_ act on them.  Do you think less of me for that?  Am I lacking in self-control?”

“I didn’t mean to imply any such thing.”  What Belle did with her body was her own business.  If she’d had one partner or a thousand, he couldn’t imagine her ever acting like Malcolm Gold.  

Belle glanced around the room as though she was looking for inspiration or, perhaps, rescue.  In his tank, Archimedes gave his tail a meaningful swish, and she nodded at the betta before she returned her attention to Gold.  "I might have been too quick to take offense there.  Sorry."

He waved off her apology.  "It’s no matter.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her body unfurling from its protective huddle.

“We’re already talking about it.”  He’d told her more about his sexual history than he’d ever told anyone except his aunties.

Belle moved back into range to poke him with her elbow.  "Stop being a pain in the ass.  You know what I mean."

Gold wasn’t entirely sure that he did.  "What do you want me to say?”

She shrugged.  "Well, there has to be a reason, right?  We’ve established that you aren’t asexual.  You’ve deliberately chosen to repress your desires and be celibate.  That’s kind of a dramatic lifestyle choice.  Did you spend some time as a priest?  Did you get your heart broken and swear off love?“  

With a rueful smile she admitted, "I know it’s none of my business, but I feel like this is the key that unlocks the mystery that is Nachton Gold.  Feel free to tell me to take my curiosity and stuff it if you want to.  You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“There’s no great mystery.”  If Belle was hoping for a revelation worthy of a gothic novel, she was doomed to disappointment.  

She’d made it clear that she wouldn't demand that he answer her questions, but to Gold’s surprise, he found that he wanted to.  It wasn’t exactly comfortable to spill his secrets, but Belle was accepting everything he told her with such warmth and understanding that he wanted to continue.  She was asking him about his reasoning, not out of prurient curiosity, but because she wanted to understand him better.  Not many people in his life had cared to learn what made him tick.

“My father was… indiscreet.”  Even as he said the words, Gold realized he was treading carefully, cautious not to say anything that would disrespect the man who’d fathered him even though Malcolm Gold deserved no respect.  He’d had that lesson beaten into him as a boy and it persisted to this day even though his father hadn’t had power over him in decades.

It was time to break those shackles.  Belle was well-traveled and well-read enough that nothing he could say should shock her sensibilities too terribly.  She wasn’t a fragile flower in need of protection.  "To him, women were toys.  He seduced them and discarded them as soon as he lost interest.  He told them what they wanted to hear and abandoned them once he got what he wanted.  I tremble to think how many half-siblings I have scattered across Europe."

He didn’t realize he was clenching his fist until Belle gently laid her hand over his.

"I was just another one of his bastards, except he was stuck with me.  My mother left me on his doorstep when I was three days old.”  To be abandoned by a mother would be enough to leave a deep scar on anyone’s psyche, but Gold had never been particularly bothered by that portion of his history.  After witnessing his father’s behavior, he couldn’t honestly say that he blamed Fiona Black for wanting nothing to do with her newborn son.

Warm fingers stroked the inside of his wrist, Belle offering him comfort and strength.  Her touch grounded him, reminding him that his past was just that— his past.  It could no longer hurt him.  "He handed me over to my aunties— thank god— but I saw enough of his life to know that I didn’t want to be anything like him."

"You decided you were going to be different.  That’s why you swore off sex,” she suggested, filling in the blanks.

“I thought it should mean something.  It shouldn’t just be a game or a toy.  It should be _important_ , an act of love.  I never meant to be celibate.  I just never managed to fall in love.”  He’d come close once, with Milah, and that fiasco had been enough to convince him that love wasn’t worth the risk.

“Oh, Nachton.”  Belle put her hand on the side of his face as she leaned into him, resting her forehead against his cheek.  "I don’t know what to say.  That’s _heartbreaking_ , but it’s such a wonderful sentiment.  You have a beautiful soul."

He could feel dampness against the side of his face, and to his horror, Gold realized she was crying.  

"I hate that you had to go through that.  It’s awful that you’ve been alone for so long.  You deserve the world, and it’s not fair that you didn’t get it.  I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by throwing myself at you.  I didn’t understand.”  Belle sat back and swiped at her face with her hand.

Instinctively, Gold reached for his pocket square before he remembered he wasn’t wearing his jacket.  Instead, he unrolled his sleeve enough to cover his hand and gently wiped her face, relieved that her tears seemed to have stopped.  

On one matter, he could set her mind at ease.  "You didn’t make me the least bit uncomfortable.  I had no idea you wanted… that from me until you started talking about the third date rule."

Belle gaped at him.  "You’re kidding.  I brought an _overnight bag_.”

“I just assumed you didn’t want to risk the drive so late at night after a few glasses of wine.”  In hindsight, he’d been rather stupid, but it had been so long since he thought of himself as a sexual being that it had never occurred to him that Belle might see him in that light.

“Oh my god…”  Belle stared at him for a long moment before letting out a snorting laugh.  Her cheeks flushing, she buried her face against his shoulder and Gold’s arm automatically went around her as he found himself laughing too.

“You can’t be serious.  You _have_ to have known.  I sat on your _lap_.”  Belle didn’t lift her head to make her accusation.

“To discourage the drunken lout who was harassing you.”  He’d done a very good job of scaring Nottingham off too, Gold thought smugly.

“I was rolling around on your _bed_.”

“I assumed it was a modern custom that the guest take the host’s bed.”

“I _kissed_ you at midnight.”

“For luck in the New Year.”

“Oh my _god_ , Nachton.”  Belle laughed until she cried, but it didn’t feel like she was laughing _at_ him, except in the most charming of ways.  They’d misunderstood each other so completely that laughter was the only reasonable response, and Gold chuckled right along with her.

Finally, she lifted her head, and he was delighted to see that the light had fully returned to her eyes.  "We established what my plans for the night were.  What did _you_ think we were going to be doing?"

"Drinking wine and discussing literature with you seemed like an excellent way to start a new year.”  Things had gone off the rails, but he couldn’t regret spending New Year’s Eve with her.

Belle’s smile was tender.  "You’re sweet."

When she leaned up to kiss his cheek, Gold’s heart skipped a beat.  "You gave me my very first kiss.”

At her puzzled look, he sought to clarify, “Under the mistletoe.”

Instead of smiling at the memory, Belle looked stricken.  "Oh no.  Oh, Nachton, I’m so sorry!"

She moved back, putting more space between them and leaving Gold feeling chilled.  "I don’t understand.  Why are you sorry?”

“Because I _took_ that from you.  You waited so long that your first kiss should have been perfect.  Not some out of the blue peck on the lips from your shop assistant.  It should have been a memory to cherish.”  Belle wrapped her arms around her middle, her face distressed.  "I’m _so_ sorry."

"No, no,” Gold sought to reassure her, reaching out to take her hand and bridge the distance she’d put between them.  

Honesty had gotten him this far.  Hopefully, it could get them a little farther.  "That was one of the best moments of my life.  Don’t be sorry.  I treasure that memory."

Belle shook her head, clearly not believing him.  "I didn’t mean to make such a mess of your life.  I bet you wish you never offered me a job.”

He clutched her hand tighter.  "It was the best decision I ever made.  Belle… you’re _wonderful_."

She looked up at him, her pinched expression slowly smoothing as she studied him.  "Nachton?”

“I wouldn’t have wanted my first kiss to come from anyone else.”  He sounded breathless to his own ears.

Belle’s eyes widened.  "Nachton, what are you saying?“

In a fit of boldness, Gold lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her fingers, letting his shaggy hair hide his face as he made his final confession.  "I’m saying that I like you immensely, and I resent the universe for making me wait so long to meet you.”

If Belle had come into his life when he was younger, perhaps he could have had everything he ever wanted: love and family.  Instead, the universe had kept her from him until it was too late, and he wanted to rage at the sheer injustice of it all.

“Oh!”  Belle’s fingers tightened convulsively around his.

Over her shoulder, Gold saw Archimedes turn a slow somersault in his tank, giving him the impression that the fish was cheering him on.  

“You said that you had… desires.  Am I understanding you right that you have desires for _me_?”  Belle looked up at him through her eyelashes.  

Gold swallowed hard, his throat dry.  "How could I not?"

"Okay…” Belle took a  deep breath before letting out a nervous laugh.  "I… okay.  So, what does that mean for us?"

With a sigh, Gold let her have her hand back.  "I wish it wasn’t too late.”

“Too late?”  Belle went up on her knees beside him so she could look down at him.  "I wish you’d stop talking like you have one foot in the grave.  You’re fifty-one, not ninety.  Hell, even ninety isn’t too late these days."

Physically, he was still in the prime of life, but mentally, Gold felt ancient.  "I’m a useless old man.  I don’t know how to be any kind of partner to you, in bed or out.  The last week should be proof enough of that.”

Belle gave his hair a tug, forcing him to look up at her.  "We had fun together this week.  We had fun _tonight_ before things got weird.  You keep saying you don’t know how to date, but obviously you do since you've been successfully dating me."

Even if she was correct, that was only half the problem.  "Do you really want a fifty-one year old virgin in your bed?”

When Belle looked away, Gold knew he had his answer.  He’d known from the start that there could never be anything between them, but it still felt like she’d slapped him.  "I thought not."

"It’s not that,” Belle denied as she sat back on her heels.  

His mouth twisted.  "Isn’t it?"

"No, it’s not.  I _know_ you.  You’re a quick study.  I’m pretty sure you’d get the hang of it in no time.”

Despite everything, her words sent a thrill through Gold’s body.  Even if they never did anything, hearing that Belle thought he had the potential to be a capable lover did wonders for his ego.

He was so close to having his dreams come true that he could almost taste it, but from the look on Belle’s face, she was less convinced.  

She worried at her lower lip.  "This is a me problem, not a you problem.  I like you a _lot_ , and obviously, I find you extremely attractive.  The thought of being the first person to touch you is actually really hot."

That was the last thing he had expected her to say, and his cock twitched in response.  To distract himself, he looked at Archimedes, watching as the fish swam to the top of his tank to take a gulp of air.  Gold could relate.

"So…?” he managed, his voice shaky.  Belle was saying all of the right things, but there was clearly still something holding her back.

She gave him a sad smile.  "You want to fall in love, and I’m not sure I can give you that.  Most of my relationships have been pretty casual.  You know, friends who have fun together.  When it’s over, no hard feelings.  Maybe it’s because I never stay in one place for long or maybe I’m just the opposite of Jefferson.  He gets really attached to everybody, and I try not to get too attached to anybody."

In her own way, it sounded like Belle had been as lonely as he’d been, and Gold’s heart ached for her.  

Reaching up, she touched the side of his face.  "You’ve waited so long, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.  I want you to have your happily ever after.”

He’d only known her for two months, but in that short period of time, Gold had realized one thing: Belle was the only woman in the world for him.  If he couldn’t find his happily ever after with her, he wouldn’t find it with anyone.  Would it hurt more to have her briefly and lose her or to never have her at all?

“Is that your only objection?  That you don’t want to hurt me?”  Just the fact that she cared enough to not want to see him hurt meant that Belle cared about him more than anyone had since his aunties died.

With an impatient look, Belle tapped his nose with her index finger.  "Isn’t that enough?“

"In that case, I think I’ll take my chances.  If you’ll have me.”  If there was a chance, however slim, that this could work, he had to take the risk.  If it all went to hell, at least he would be left with wonderful memories and the comfort of knowing that he’d tried.  

It wasn’t his nature to be brave, but he also wasn’t the sort of man who let opportunities slip away.  If Belle was willing to give him the chance to win her heart, he would grab it with both hands and do his best.

Belle gave him a dry look.  "I’d like to have you in ways that would make you blush."

True to her word, Gold felt his face heating as his stomach tightened, his mouth going dry.  

With a tender smile, she leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth.  "We’ll take it slow, yeah?  We won’t rush into anything.”

Part of him wanted nothing more than for her to push him onto his back and have her wicked way with him right that second, but the part of his mind that wasn’t overwhelmed with lust could recognize the wisdom of her approach.  "Yeah."

Belle rubbed their noses together before she very slowly pressed her lips against his, the touch feather light.  Gold drew in a jerky breath, his heart racing as he leaned into the gentle pressure, the warmth of her lips filling his entire body with heat.  Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, the intimate touch bringing tears to his eyes.

Thankfully, she pretended not to see them when she pulled back.  Instead, she busied herself with straightening his shirtsleeves until he’d regained control of himself.  "So…” he began, his voice hoarse.  "What should we do now?"

It was the same thing she’d said after their kiss at midnight, and Belle smiled fondly at the refrain.  "Drink wine and talk about literature?”

He laughed breathlessly, his voice breaking.  "I would like that.  Very much."

Her lips softly caressed his cheek.  "So would I.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Are you sure you have everything you need?” Gold asked as he added another blanket to the pile he’d started on his office couch.

Six blankets and four pillows should be enough to ensure one small woman’s comfort, but it didn’t hurt to make sure that Belle felt sufficiently provided for.  He’d offered her the guest room of her choice as well as his own bedroom, but she’d opted to spend the remainder of the evening in his office instead.

“I’m sure.”  Over the course of their lengthy conversation about literature and the development of the English language, Belle’s lipstick had faded, and her hair was rumpled, leaving her looking more undone than he’d ever seen her, and there was something oddly heart-rending about the sight.

“Because you’re welcome to my bed.  It’s freshly made.”  Earlier in the evening, Belle had expressed an interest in his bed, and even now that he knew she hadn’t been talking about her appreciation for his mattress, Gold couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was supposed to give her the master suite.

“I’ll be fine on the couch.  Archimedes and I are going to have a slumber party, aren’t we?”  She directed her comment to the fish, who swam a lazy circle around his tank.

“You might change your mind.  He snores,” Gold teased, ignoring the betta’s indignant look.

Belle looked up at him through her eyelashes.  "Nachton, the first time I sleep in your bed, I expect you to be beside me.“

Gold caught his breath at the promise implicit in her words.  Even though Belle had made her interest in him clear, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that she desired him, and the thought was almost as beguiling as it was terrifying.

He cleared his throat.  "In that case, I’ll bid you goodnight.”

If Belle realized the reason for his hasty retreat, she had the decency not to mention it.  Instead, she leaned up to brush an airy kiss against his cheek.  "I’ll text you if I need anything.“

In an attempt to maintain his dignity, Gold kept his spine straight and his steps slow as he made his way to the office door.  It wasn’t until he’d pulled it closed behind him that he slumped, exhaling a long breath of relief that he’d managed to not make a complete fool of himself for a change.

His thoughts were so scrambled as he climbed the stairs that he could scarcely remember which way to turn at the top.  Although he assumed that he would feel more steady once he was safely barricaded inside his bedroom, even that measure of distance failed to set his mind at ease.  Belle was in his house, settling in to sleep on his couch, and she wanted him.  

She wanted him.  Belle _wanted_ him.

Weak-kneed, he sank onto his mattress and stared blankly at the wall as those three words played on an endless loop inside of his head.  For the past two months, he’d been excusing away every hint that Belle was attracted to him, but the little moments that he’d brushed off had been far more significant than he’d ever imagined possible.  The woman of his dreams was attracted to him, and she was downstairs right now, spending the night under his roof.

Tonight they’d taken the first step on a path that would lead to either heartbreak or eternal happiness, and Gold wasn’t sure which possibility was more likely.  Good things didn’t generally happen to him, but now that Belle had come into his life, the universe felt rife with potential.  She’d offered him the chance to court her and win her heart, and that was the single best thing that had happened to him since he lost Bae.  

He’d endured decades of loneliness and misery.  Maybe that meant he was due for some happiness.

When his phone jingled, Gold emerged from his reverie.  Belle had promised to text him if she needed anything, and apparently she’d thought of something because no one else ever texted him.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check her message, but instead of a request for another blanket, Belle had written only two words— _Sweet dreams!_

She’d followed her message with a little winking face with a tiny heart next to its puckered lips, and Gold chuckled at the sight.  

"Same to you,” he typed back, searching through the pictures until he found a flower to add to his message.  He was getting the hang of texting.

When Belle didn’t respond, Gold forced himself to stand and begin his nightly ablutions, his skin prickling as he prepared to change into his pajamas.  Earlier tonight, Belle had joked about having him model his nightwear for her, and now Gold could almost feel her gaze upon him, watching as he bared his body.

Belle wasn’t the sort of woman to sneak around, but he could almost believe that she’d followed him up the stairs, avoiding every creaking floorboard to settle herself outside his bedroom door and peer at him through the keyhole.  Even after he gave into the fanciful idea and allowed himself to open the door to verify that she wasn’t there, Gold couldn’t shake the feeling that she could somehow see everything that he was doing.  

Feeling as though he was performing for her, he slowly undid the buttons of his shirt and pulled the tails loose from his trousers, allowing it to hang open.  What would she say if she saw him like this?  A critical look in the mirror reminded him that he wasn’t a handsome man.  Sparse hair decorated a chest that was too scrawny for his liking, and the daily ice cream breaks Belle had instituted had taken their toll, leading to a slight softness around his middle.  

Sucking in his stomach didn’t help matters, and Gold sighed as he released the breath he’d drawn.  Shifting his weight onto his good leg so he could put down his cane, he shrugged off the shirt before quickly undoing his belt and trousers and letting them drop, leaving him standing before the mirror in nothing but his boxers.  

The sight didn’t encourage him.  His legs were too thin, his penchant for wearing too many layers of clothes having left his skin pasty.  The old injury to his leg had resulted in visible scar tissue, and although the marks weren’t grotesque, they were still far more noticeable than he would prefer.  Mouth twisting, he shook his head at his reflection.

There was nothing at all impressive about his physique, and Belle was bound to be disappointed if they ever got to the point where she would expect him to take his clothes off.  Storybrooke wasn’t a large town, but there had to be at least several dozen unattached men who were far better specimens than he was.  He couldn’t imagine what Belle had been thinking when she chose him.

But choose him she did, Gold reminded himself.  By anyone’s standards, Keith Nottingham was a handsome man, but Belle had been nothing but disgusted by the lout.  Perhaps she saw something in him that he didn’t see in himself.  She had eyes; she knew what he looked like, and she claimed to find him attractive.

Actually, she claimed to find him _extremely_ attractive, Gold recalled as reconsidered his reflection  Those were the exact words she’d used.  Belle said she found him extremely attractive, and there was certainly no reason for her to lie about such a thing.  If she could see him like this, perhaps she wouldn’t be disappointed.  Maybe it would please her to see him in a state of undress.

Hesitantly, Gold lifted one hand and pressed his fingers against his pectoral muscle, watching the action in the mirror.  Although he cleaned himself thoroughly on a daily basis and occasionally touched himself to slake his urges, he never took the time to simply explore his body.  There was nothing particularly compelling about his own touch, but the thought that, someday, Belle might want to touch him like this made his breath catch and his stomach tense.  

His eyes fluttered closed, blocking out the sight of his own hand as he imagined Belle’s fingers caressing him.  She would be gentle and patient, her gaze intent on his face as she watched to make sure he didn’t object to her touch, but Gold couldn’t imagine protesting anything she wanted to do to him.  He would enjoy anything she chose to do, simply because she was the one doing it.  Any touch from her fingers would be bliss, and the thought that she might follow her fingers with her lips was enough to set him aflame.

With a stuttered gasp, Gold opened his eyes, seeing his flushed face looking back at him from the mirror.  Just the thought of Belle and her imagined touch had been enough to arouse him, his hardened flesh tenting the front of his boxers.  

On unsteady legs, he limped to the bed and climbed under the covers, forgoing pajamas for the night.  The urge to wrap his hand around himself and tug to ecstatic completion as he replayed the memory of Belle telling him that she found him extremely attractive and promising that she wanted to have him in ways that would make him blush was nearly overwhelming, and it was with effort that Gold forced his hand to remain at his side.  Belle wasn’t an object to be used for his pleasure.  It would be disrespectful to bring himself off to thoughts of her.

Or maybe it wouldn’t be.  Gold gazed up at the ceiling, wondering what Belle would say if she could see him in such a state.  Maybe she would be more flattered than offended.  Maybe she would encourage him to take himself in hand and give himself pleasure so long as he climaxed with her name on his lips.  Maybe she did such things in her own bed with thoughts of him on her mind.

Gold’s back arched helplessly at the thought, his hips thrusting upward in a desperate search for friction.  The image of Belle pleasuring herself to thoughts of him was enough to drive him mad, and his body writhed against the mattress, aching with the need for completion.

Whether or not Belle would approve of such things, it would be completely inappropriate to do them while she was asleep downstairs.  It was bad enough that she was a guest in his home, but if he touched himself, he might well make a noise, and if she came to investigate, the shame would kill him before he ever had the chance to learn what it would be like to feel her fingers touch his chest.

Grinding his teeth, Gold sucked in ragged breaths through his nose until his body finally subsided.  Only then did he risk adjusting himself, hissing at the touch of his own hand.  His body felt bruised, but at least he would be able to look Belle in the eye tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow he would begin his courtship of her, and that thought was enough to terrify any lingering remnants of desire away.  Romance was well and good between the pages of a book, but he was woefully unprepared to execute any grand gestures.  Even small gestures were probably beyond him.  He didn’t know how to flirt.  He had no idea how to choose a gift she might like nor what kind of flowers were her favorites.  Any practical experience he had with romance was both slight and decades out of date, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what Belle might be expecting of him.  

Gold’s fingers played with the edge of his sheet in an attempt to distract himself from his worry.  He was Nachton Gold, and he knew how to accomplish a goal.  He’d built himself up from nothing into the most powerful man in Storybrooke.  He’d scratched and clawed his way from poverty to wealth.  He’d grown from a bullied boy into a man feared by the entire town.  He _always_ got what he wanted, and he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted Belle.

The internal pep talk soothed his nerves, and Gold smoothed the sheet back down, finding a hard lump where he’d been fiddling with it.  Looking down, he discovered that he’d tied a knot in the sheet, something his aunties had taught him to do as a child to ward off bad luck.  

He hadn’t thought of the superstition in decades, and the sight of it made him smile ruefully.  Perhaps he wasn’t as confident in his ability to accomplish the task that lay before him as he pretended to be, but now he felt as though his aunties were watching over him.  After seeing what happened with Milah, they would be thrilled that he’d found a woman as wonderful as Belle.  If nothing else, they would certainly wish him luck in his upcoming courtship.

He was likely to need all the good luck he could get.

At some point, Gold managed to fall into a restless sleep only to awaken scant hours later.  A look at the clock made him groan.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept as late as nine o'clock, but he and Belle had stayed up talking until nearly dawn, and his mind felt as foggy as though he’d never gone to bed at all.

Although he was tempted to pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep, Gold was aware that he would be a poor host to leave his guest to fend for herself while he lounged in bed.  With effort, he hauled himself out of bed and into the shower, standing under the hot spray until he felt as though he was capable of stringing enough words together to make a sentence.  Only then did he emerge and dress for the day, the process taking longer than it normally did because now he wasn’t dressing to please himself; he was dressing to please Belle.

Gold prided himself on his elegant wardrobe.  He enjoyed mixing colors and patterns to ensure he was always well turned out.  Until today, however, he’d never cared what anyone else thought of his clothes.  Last night, he’d worried about looking appropriate for the Rabbit Hole, but that had been a matter of not wanting to embarrass Belle.  Today, he wanted to please her.  The problem was that he wasn’t certain how to do that.  Were there colors she favored him in?  Did she have preferences when it came to his suits or did the subtle variations of style all look the same to her?  

Last night, she’d praised his tie which gave him a starting point.  Belle often wore shades of blue and green as well as yellows and reds.  Yellow didn’t suit him, but he had plenty of options among her other favorite colors.

After much deliberation, he ended up dressing in a charcoal suit with a burgundy shirt and pocket square accented by a black tie swirled with bronze.  The effect was a bit severe, but as he considered his reflection, Gold decided that he looked quite appropriate.  

With the all-important sartorial decision behind him, he headed for the kitchen, careful to step quietly in case Belle was still asleep.  The door to the downstairs bathroom was closed when he passed it, indicating that she was awake and readying herself for the day, something that he was careful not to think about.  If Belle was showering behind that closed door, it was for the best that he not know about it.

Instead, he busied himself with starting their breakfast, opting for a basic French omelette accompanied by freshly sliced plums.  Had he known that Belle was planning to be here for breakfast, he would have asked his housekeeper to buy pastries, but he would have to make do with what he had on hand.  

From working with Belle, he knew that she enjoyed coffee in the morning, so he started a pot for her and put a kettle on for tea for himself, which reminded him of the gift Jefferson had given him the previous evening.  Before he could forget, he went to retrieve the small bag from his coat pocket and deposited it in the middle of the island, wondering how something that looked so innocuous could be so dangerous.

By the time he was sprinkling the omelettes with chives, Belle wandered into the kitchen, clad in a green shirtdress, her hair loose around her shoulders and her feet bare.  She looked completely at home, and the sight made Gold’s throat tighten.  "Good morning.“

"Good morning.  It smells _amazing_ in here,” she praised, taking a seat at the island when he motioned for her to do so.

Gold smiled awkwardly at the compliment, not sure what to say.  He’d never had a problem talking to Belle, but that was when he was her employer and she was his assistant.  Now, he was courting her, and that changed everything.

“I made you a French-style omelette and coffee.”  He sounded robotic to his own ears.

“Since the French invented omelettes, aren’t _all_ omelettes French-style?” she challenged.

“American omelets cook for a longer period to form a crust, and they’re folded in half to be served.  French omelettes are rolled into an oval.”  He presented Belle with her plate to illustrate his point, realizing belatedly that her question had broken the ice, reminding him that he did, in fact, know how to talk to Belle.

He poured a cup of coffee for her before bringing his own plate and cup over to join her.  As soon as he was seated, Belle nudged herself against his side.  "I could get used to this kind of service.“

Chuckling, Gold daringly nudged her back.  "I haven’t forgotten that you once asked me for cooking lessons.  Maybe you’ll make breakfast for me one day.”

“Absolutely!  Hope you like Pop Tarts and dry cereal.  I’m good at those.”  Her nose crinkled as she smiled up at him.

If Belle made it for him, Gold would probably enjoy a bowl of soggy Corn Flakes, but she didn’t need to know that.  "My standards are a bit higher than that.  I demand French toast at the very least.“

"How about toast made by a French?” she bargained.  "Does that count?“

"Not even a little bit.”

Belle nodded at his mug.  "You’re not drinking Jefferson’s tea, are you?“

Gold shuddered at the thought.  "I wouldn’t dream of it.  I’m planning to stick it in the back corner of the highest cabinet and pretend he never gave it to me.”

“That’s probably wise.”  She made a happy noise at her first bite of omelette, the sound going straight to Gold’s core, and he hastily turned his attention to his own meal before she noticed his reaction.

It was strange to have someone sitting beside him as he ate, making casual conversation.  Even when he sat at the counter at the diner, people gave him a wide berth, making Belle’s presence feel all the more immediate.  The first time his elbow bumped hers, he apologized, but when it happened again, he noticed her sly smile and realized she was doing it on purpose.

His bubble of personal space tended to have a ten foot radius, but Gold found that he didn’t mind in the slightest when Belle breeched the boundaries.  To the contrary, he doubted she could ever be too close.

Belle was the first to finish, and she immediately dragged her chair over to the highest and least accessible cabinet in the kitchen.  "This one?“

"You’re going to break your neck,” Gold scolded, but he didn’t argue when she climbed on the chair to stash the bag of tea in the back.

Belle shot him a cheeky look over her shoulder.  "If I didn’t climb on things, how would you check out my legs?“

"I’m quite capable of doing that when your feet are safely on the ground.”  It wasn’t until she smirked at him that Gold realized just what he’d admitted.

His companion batted her eyelashes at him.  "Nachton, you naughty boy.“

Gold cleared his throat and attempted to change the subject.  "Is there anything in particular that you like to eat that I should keep on hand?  Other than ice cream, of course.  I know you enjoy eggplant.  Is there a certain recipe you favor?”

To his surprise, Belle blushed as she hopped off the chair.  "I should probably tell you something.“

His stomach clenched.  Statements of that kind rarely heralded anything good.  "Oh?”

Once she was again seated beside him, Belle put her hand on his leg, which mitigated his nerves slightly.

“I hate eggplant,” she confessed.

Her words were less damning than he’d feared, but more confusing than he’d expected.  "If you dislike it, is there a reason you requested it when I asked you what you wanted for dinner?“

Belle pressed her lips together hard for a long moment before she looked up at him.  "You remember when I told you not to text the eggplant to anyone but me because it has a double meaning?”

“I remember.”  

“The eggplant emoji is rather… phallic.”  Belle gave him a meaningful look.  "And you didn’t ask me what I wanted for dinner.  You asked me what I wanted to _eat_.“

Gold stared back, trying to make sense of what she was saying.  He asked her what she wanted to eat, and she texted him an eggplant.  A phallic-looking eggplant.

Oh.

_Oh._

The blood rushed to his face so quickly that Gold feared he would combust.  Belle hadn’t been requesting eggplant Parmesan.  She’d been offering to perform fellatio on him.

He dropped his head into his hand, letting out a laugh that sounded more like a groan.  Belle must have thought he was a complete idiot when he didn’t understand her meaning, but that embarrassment paled in comparison to the way his entire body went tight at the promise in that text.  

Belle put a hand on his back.  "Nachton?  Are you okay?”

“I had _no_ idea.”  What would he have done had he caught her meaning that day?  Gold wasn’t sure if he would have taken her up on her offer or run screaming into the night.

She rubbed the back of his neck.  "I knew you wouldn’t.  I wouldn’t have had the nerve to text that if I thought you’d understand.  I just thought I better tell you before you get it into your head to start making ratatouille or something.“

Gold laughed breathlessly, distracted by the feel of Belle’s fingers on his neck.  "And you call _me_ naughty.”

“Do you think that’s something you’d like?” she asked softly.

He groaned in the back of his throat, the sound hoarse and desperate.  "You have to _ask_?“

"Good.”  Warm lips brushed his cheek.  "I’d like it too.“

"Oh my god.”  Beyond words, Gold dropped his head onto the island, the marble cooling his feverish face.  Belle would like to suck his cock.  He was never going to survive the new year.

She massaged his neck until he felt like he could move without humiliating himself.  Only then did Gold dare lift his head.  "Is there another emoji I should be aware of?“

"A female equivalent, you mean?  There’s no common consensus, but I usually use the peach.”  Belle’s eyes danced with amusement.

“The peach.”  His voice was gravelly.  "I’ll remember that.“

Belle’s gaze dropped as her face flushed.  "Sounds good.”

“You'd… like that?” he asked, not certain he was reading her body language correctly.  For all he knew, Belle would kick him in the face if he ever dared attempt such a thing.

“I would,” she agreed, her voice higher than it normally was.

Gold let out a long breath.  He’d always assumed talking about such things would be humiliating, but nothing could be further from the truth.  He’d never been more aroused in his life, and they were sitting fully clothed in his kitchen, doing nothing but talking.  "As would I.“

He was certain to be inept, but if Belle was willing to be patient with him, he would be the most dedicated student possible.  

By silent consent, they allowed the conversation to lapse and turned their attention to their respective drinks.  Gold’s tea had gone cold, for which he was grateful.  He needed something to cool him down.  At this point, a dip in the freezing ocean wouldn’t be out of the question.

By the time he finished, he’d regained most of his self-control.  "What were your plans for the rest of the day?”

Belle gave him an apologetic smile.  "I promised Grace that I’d be home in time to watch some of the Rose Parade with her.  It starts at eleven.“

"I see.”  It was selfish of him to want to keep Belle all for himself when her family needed her, but Gold still resented that their time together was coming to an end.

“You could come in and watch the parade with us,” she suggested, a hint of melancholy in her voice as though she expected him to reject the idea.

Since he’d refused every time she invited him to do something with her family, it was a reasonable assumption to make.  Sitting around watching a parade on television with an eight year old girl wasn’t Gold’s idea of an enjoyable way to spend the day, but Belle’s family was important to her, and it was important to her that he get along with them.  The fact that she’d bought them presents in his name was proof enough of that.

If he wanted to win Belle’s heart, he couldn’t shun the parts of her life that he found inconvenient.  "I would like to join you.“

Her eyes widened.  "You would?”

“As long as Grace won’t mind my presence.”  He thought the child was less terrified of him now, but they weren’t exactly friends.

Belle waved off his concern.  "Between the doll and Archimedes, she’s decided you’re not so bad.“

‘Not so bad’ wasn’t a glowing recommendation, but Gold would take it.  "In that case, I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

“I’m almost ready.”

When he glanced over at her, Belle grabbed the sides of his face and pressed a firm kiss against his lips.  "There.   _Now_ I’m ready.“

Gold chuckled, feeling a little dizzy.

"You know… you can kiss me too,” Belle informed him.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.  "I… will remember that.“

When Belle continued to look at him, Gold realized what she was waiting for and swallowed hard.  

"All right,” he murmured, steeling himself to make the first move.  Tilt his head.  Lean in.  He could do this.

Belle snickered.  "You don’t have to look so dour.“

"I’m concentrating.”  Tilt to the right.  Or was it the left?

“You’re trying to set fires with your mind ag—”

He leaned in faster than he’d intended to, his mouth colliding with Belle’s before she’d finished speaking.  Her upper lip slipped between his, and Gold froze for an instant until he felt Belle take his hands and squeeze.

He was kissing her.  

Wonder of wonders, he hadn’t broken her nose or chipped any of her teeth, and Gold felt absurdly proud of himself before he realized there was more to this than simply not damaging her.  He stroked her palms with his thumbs as he tentatively sucked on her lip, trying to emulate everything that Belle had ever done to him.

She was soft and warm and sweet, the faint taste of coffee lingering in her mouth.  Enchanted, Gold swiped his tongue over her lip in thoughtless pursuit of that flavor, and he flinched when Belle pulled away.

“You are _very_ good at that.”  

To Gold, who’d been braced for recrimination, her voice seemed to be coming from very far away.  He blinked his eyes open in surprise, taking in her flushed cheeks and tender smile.  "Yeah?“

"Yeah.”  Still holding his hands, Belle leaned in to brush a quick kiss against his lips.  "Are you sure you’re a virgin?“

He chuckled, aware of the compliment she was paying him.  "Pretty sure.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes, hands entwined for a long moment until Belle sighed and squeezed his fingers.  "Come on.  We’ve got a parade to catch.“

When she stood, Gold moved with her, and they were suddenly walking hand-in-hand.  In disbelief, he looked down the length of his arm, giving her hand a little swing just to prove to himself that this was really happening.  

"Lead the way.  I’ll follow.”

He rather thought he would follow her anywhere.


	14. Chapter 14

“Tea?”

With a polite smile, Gold accepted the mug that Jefferson offered him, careful not to take a swallow until he saw Belle give him a slight nod.  Given her brother’s apparent propensity for hallucinogenic tea, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Occupying himself with the warm drink gave him something to do as the siblings chatted about how Jefferson and Grace had spent the previous evening, something that he was grateful for.  With Belle sitting beside him on the sofa and Jefferson on his other side in an armchair, following their conversation made him feel like his head was on a swivel.

Grace was sprawled out on the floor in front of the three adults with a Barbie doll in hand, her attention riveted to the television screen.  For his part, Gold was less enthralled by the parade.  Every inch of every float was covered in flowers and other organic material— a fact that the announcers pointed out every seven minutes— which meant that they were quite lovely, but there were only so many roses Gold could look at before his eyes started to glaze over.

At the moment, Jefferson was detailing the Nerf gun battle he and his daughter had waged throughout the house.  "I’m afraid that bowl you picked up in Thailand was a casualty of war.  May it rest in pieces.“

Belle groaned at her brother’s pun.  "Well, it was a present for you, not for me.  Do you think it can be glued, or is it beyond saving?”

“It’s somewhere between pieces and shards.”  Jefferson rested his hand over his heart.  "A moment of silence for our fallen comrade.“

"I could take a look at it if you’d like,” Gold offered, relieved to have something to contribute to the discussion.  

Belle’s approving smile made him sit up a little straighter as Jefferson considered his suggestion.  "You’re welcome to have a go if Sisyphean tasks are your jam.“

"I have a knack for restoration.  There’s no harm in trying.”  As he said the words, Gold marveled at himself.  Not long ago, he would have been the first person to rail against wasting time on a pointless task like repairing a souvenir.  If Jefferson valued the bowl, he should have been more diligent about keeping it out of harm’s way, and there was little point in exerting oneself without reasonable assurance of success.  Now, he was offering his services free of charge in pursuit of a task that might well be impossible just because Belle had once liked the shattered bowl enough to buy it for her brother.

It was amazing how much of an impact Belle had made on his personality in two short months.  At this rate, she would have him hosting a Halloween party for the entire town by next October.

“I suppose that means someone will have to dig the pieces out of the trash.”  Jefferson turned pleading eyes on his sister.

Next to him, Belle was already pushing herself to her feet.  "I will _help_ you.  I’m not doing it for you.  I’m not the one that broke it.“

"Gracey did it.”

The little girl looked up, her face outraged.  "Did not!   _You_ broke it when you tried to jump over the banister.“

"I suppose I should be glad the bowl is the only thing that broke.”  Belle glanced down at Gold with a wry smile.  "My idiot brother and I will be right back.  Do you need anything?“

"I’m fine.”  For a breathless moment, Gold wondered if Belle was going to lean down for a parting kiss, but she only rested her hand briefly on his shoulder before following Jefferson out of the room, the siblings already arguing about whether or not parkour was an acceptable indoor activity.

For the first time in his life, Gold wondered what it would be like to have a sibling— a proper sibling, not just a stranger who’d had genetic material donated by the same man.  With Jefferson, Belle was completely relaxed and unguarded, and that sort of easy camaraderie appealed to Gold, who’d never known such a thing.

Even if his relationship with Belle progressed just as he hoped and they fell in love and married, spending the rest of their lives growing as close as two people could be, Jefferson would still know her in a way that he couldn’t.  The two siblings shared experiences and memories that Gold had no part in, and even if Belle told him about every one of those memories, it wouldn’t be the same.

Belle and Jefferson had a bond that he would never share with anyone, and Gold wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  He wasn’t jealous of Belle’s relationship with her brother— that would be insane, even for him— but he still felt a lingering disquiet when he thought about such things.  

With a frown, he settled in to explore the idea more thoroughly, trying to decipher what exactly was bothering him.  It wasn’t jealousy; it was more of a sense of envy of their bond.  It would be nice to have someone he could count on to have his back no matter what happened.  Belle had given up her life of adventure to help raise her niece, and Gold was certain that if their positions had been reversed, Jefferson would have done the same thing for her.  Although he had no desire to be the third French sibling, Gold realized he would have liked having a brother or sister of his own to grow up with.

Instead, the closest he’d come to having that sort of family was Bae, and that hadn’t ended well for anyone.  For decades, he’d been comfortable being alone, but now that Belle had come into his life, it had awakened all sorts of latent desires.  Now that he’d made a connection to one person, he was hungry for more.

He no longer had his son, and he would never have a sibling, but there were other possibilities.  The scope of his life, which had once been so narrow, was growing wider by the day.  Over time, perhaps he and Jefferson could develop a friendship of sorts, and Belle wanted him to get along with Grace.  It wouldn’t be the same relationship he’d had with Bae, but he might be able to serve as a kind of surrogate uncle to the child.

If he wanted Grace to one day consider him part of her family, it would probably be wise to attempt to talk to the girl.

“That’s a pretty doll,” he observed, deciding that complimenting her toy was a safe start.

In response, Grace held up the doll to give him a better look at her curly pink hair and sheer teal wings.  "Her name is Gazey.“

Gold wasn’t entirely sure where to go from there.  He knew how to play dinosaurs, not dolls.  "Did Santa bring her for you?”

Grace looked so confounded by his question that Gold second-guessed himself.  Was the girl too old for Santa Claus or wasn’t that part of the French Christmas tradition?  

After staring at him for an uncertain moment, Grace finally giggled and flashed him a gap-tooth smile.  "You’re silly.“

As if afraid she’d said too much, she immediately turned back to the parade, leaving Gold to try to figure out what was happening.  Belle often laughed at him when he hadn’t realized he’d been funny, and apparently that trait ran in the family.  However, he had no idea what Grace had found amusing about his question.  

As he watched Grace idly wiggle the Barbie through the air like she was flying, the penny dropped.  Last night, Jefferson had praised his cleverness for identifying the correct ‘fairy Barbie,’ and that was an appropriate description of the child’s doll.  No wonder Grace had looked at him like he was insane: as far as she knew, _he’d_ bought her that doll.

Fortunately the girl seemed to think he’d been making a joke, otherwise his cover would have been thoroughly blown.  The next time Belle decided he needed to procure a gift for a member of her family, he was going to insist on being involved in the process.  It was far less dangerous that way.

Since it wasn’t that long ago that Grace had considered him terrifying, silly was an improvement.  He could work with silly.

Calling on skills that he hadn’t used in thirty years, Gold reached out with his cane to gently tap the girl’s foot.  "I’ll show you silly.”

Grace froze like a rabbit that had spotted a cougar, her eyes enormous.  Apparently, some terror still lingered when it came to him.

It was too late to turn back now.  Hoping that Jefferson and Belle were nowhere nearby, Gold crossed his eyes and poked his tongue out at Grace, pulling a ridiculous face in hope of making her laugh.

Dead silence greeted his effort, and humiliation twisted his gut as Gold let the expression drop.  The child was still staring at him, her mouth open, and it was all he could do not to snap at her to go back to watching her parade.  His only comfort was knowing that if she told anyone about his embarrassing display, no one would believe her.

Awkwardly, they held each other’s gazes until Grace suddenly exploded into uproarious laughter, the sound startlingly loud for such a small girl.  She laughed until she snorted, then she screwed up her face and opened her mouth as wide as she could, sticking out her tongue.  " _Mmyah_!“

Gold sagged with relief, the rush of adrenaline leaving him giddy as he found another silly face for her.  ” _Bleh_.“

They took turns making faces at each other until Grace was laughing too hard to continue.  His head buzzing with the satisfaction of success, Gold slumped back and drained his now-cold cup of tea, startled to realize that he’d had fun playing with the girl.  Interacting with Grace wasn’t like being with Bae, but maybe that was okay.  The child didn’t have to be the center of his universe for him to enjoy her company.

"Do you have any pictures of your fish?” Grace asked curiously once she’d laughed herself out.

Always happy for a chance to show off his pet, Gold pulled out his phone.  "A few.  Do you remember his name?“

"Arcameeky.”  It wasn’t a bad attempt, and Gold hid a smile as Grace came to sit on the couch beside him.

“Archimedes,” he corrected gently, holding the phone so she could see the screen.

Grace understood how to use the device better than he did, skillfully navigating through the several dozen pictures and videos he’d taken of Archimedes.  Gold had vowed not to be one of those people who were tiresome about their pets, but the betta kept doing things that he felt the need to capture for posterity.  He wasn’t foolish about the fish; Archimedes was just a particularly exceptional specimen.

“He’s a nice fish,” Grace proclaimed as she returned his phone.

“Have you ever had a pet?”  He’d always meant to get Bae a dog when the boy was a little older, and Gold hoped that Milah had seen fit to do just that.  Bae would have _loved_ a dog.

“I had a hamster, but it died.  Dad says he’s going to get me a turtle, but I want a cat.  And a dog.  And a chinchilla.  And a horse.”  Grace ticked the possibilities off on her fingers.

“Those all sound like wonderful pets.”  The turtle didn’t sound particularly exciting to him, but perhaps they were more communicative than he realized.  Archimedes certainly had no problem making his thoughts and wishes known, and a turtle’s brain was larger than a betta’s.

The conversation lagged after that, but fortunately Grace still had the parade to distract her.  As the child returned to the television, Gold mentally patted himself on the back.  Real progress had been made, and Belle was going to be delighted.  If her expectation was simply that he be nice to her niece, he’d gone above and beyond today.

Distracting him from his triumph was the uncomfortable fact that the cup of tea was starting to catch up with the two cups of coffee he’d already had that day.  Gold hated to roam the house without permission, but Belle and Jefferson still hadn’t returned from their errand.  "Grace, where’s your bathroom?“

The child’s directions were sketchy, but sufficient.  Gold examined himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, pondering his reflection.  Last night, he’d decided that he wasn’t a handsome man, and that was still true, but he looked different this morning.  Not better or younger, just… different.  Maybe Jefferson’s house had more flattering lighting than his own home.

As he exited the bathroom, the sound of his own name caught his attention, and Gold paused, hearing the sound of voices coming from the opposite direction.  Belle and Jefferson were talking, and he had no business eavesdropping on a private conversation, but they were apparently talking about _him_.

"…into BDSM?  He seems like the type.  Spare me the gory details.  I don’t want to know anything.  Now tell me everything,” Jefferson demanded.  

Gold wasn’t clear on what BDSM was or why Jefferson assumed he was interested in it, and Belle’s response didn’t help.  "Shut up, Jefferson.“

"Did he cry during?  I bet he cried.  Ew, I don’t want to think about this.  Is he kinky?  Does he wear women’s underwear?  Oh god, I’m _never_ going to get that image out of my head.”

Gold closed his eyes in mortification.  How was he supposed to look Jefferson in the eye knowing that Belle’s brother had pictured him in a bra and knickers?

Then again, Jefferson was going to have to try to meet _his_ eye with that picture in mind.  At least that was some mild revenge.

“You’re a creepy weirdo, and I’m ashamed to be related to you,” Belle informed her brother.

“Why won’t you _tell_ me anything?” Jefferson whined, sounding more petulant than Bae ever had.

“You just told me that you didn’t want to know anything.”

“I don’t want to know anything about _you_.  I want to hear about _Gold_.  No one has ever even seen the man shake someone’s hand, and now you’re sleeping with him.  You know his secrets, and I don’t even know if he has a first name.  It’s not _fair_.”  The pout that accompanied his words was nearly audible.

“Stop screwing around.  I don’t want to joke about this.”  Belle sounded a bit put-out with her brother’s antics, and Gold heaved a mental sigh of relief when he realized Jefferson was merely teasing his sister, not seriously demanding details about their presumed carnal activities.

“Did something happen?”  The change in Jefferson’s voice was startling, all pretense of humor evaporating.

Gold held his breath.  He’d always thought of Jefferson as a harmless eccentric, but the owner of that voice sounded like he was capable of ripping him limb from limb if Gold had harmed his sister in any way.

“Of course not,” Belle immediately denied.

He shouldn’t be hearing this.  Belle and Jefferson had no idea that he was within earshot.  The fact that they were talking about him didn’t make it right for him to skulk around listening at keyholes.  Not only was his behavior unspeakably rude, it was also detrimental to his relationship with Jefferson.  If Belle’s brother wanted to imagine him wearing women’s underwear, Gold was better off not knowing about it.  

He managed to take one step away from the pair before Belle spoke again.  "It’s just that he's…"

She hesitated, leaving him rooted to the spot.  Belle wouldn’t tell Jefferson _that_ , would she?   She hadn’t even shared his first name with her brother.  Surely she wouldn’t dream of divulging that he was a virgin.

“… serious about this.  About me,” she finally continued.

“Is that a bad thing?” Jefferson asked softly.

Gold’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he cursed the sound of his own blood thundering through his veins for impeding his hearing.  It was wrong for him to stand here and listen to this.  If Belle had qualms about their relationship, she would undoubtedly tell him herself, but he was disinclined to wait for her to bring the issues to his attention.  If she had concerns about his behavior or his character, he needed to know about them as soon as possible.  He couldn’t take steps to improve himself if he didn’t know what she wanted him to change.

Really, he was just being proactive by eavesdropping.

“No.  Yes?”  Belle sounded miserable.  "I _like_ him.  I mean… a _lot_.  But you know me.  I don’t do serious.“

A lot.  Belle liked him a _lot_.  Tears pricked at Gold’s eyes.  At least they were on the same page in one way because he couldn’t imagine ever liking anyone more than her.

"Maybe you should give it a try.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

Belle didn’t say anything in response to Jefferson’s question, but she clearly reacted in some way because the other man chuckled.  "Other than that?  He did say he has a clean bill of health.“

"Even if he doesn’t die, it still might not work out.  If I let myself go all in on this and he decides 'thanks, but no thanks'…”   Belle trailed off with a sigh.  

_That_ was what was bothering her?  Gold replayed what he’d overheard as he forced his legs to resume working.  Since the night he’d met her, he’d always thought of Belle as fearless, but it sounded as though she was as frightened by what was happening between them as he was, albeit for different reasons.

He’d never given any real thought to what it would mean for Belle to lose both of her parents at such a young age.  Her mother’s death, especially, must have been a massive blow since she had only scant memories of the woman.  On top of that, she’d lost her sister-in-law as well, and he’d never even asked if she and Grace’s mother had been close.  With that in mind, it was no wonder she never let herself get too attached to anyone.  

Gold couldn’t promise never to die, but he could make an appointment with Dr. Whale to get a full work-up.  At his age, that probably wasn’t a bad idea.  He’d have Whale test him for everything under the sun and present Belle with the results so she could make an educated decision about taking a chance on him. 

Unfortunately, there seemed to be no simple solution for Belle’s other concern.  After waiting fifty-one years to meet her, the idea that he might lose interest in their relationship for any reason was laughable, but Gold could think of no way to convince her of that particular truth.  All he could do was show her in every way possible that he was completely committed to her.  If she ultimately decided that she didn’t want a serious relationship, so be it.  At least he would know that he’d done everything in his power to win her heart.

Grace waved her doll vaguely at him when he returned, but the girl didn’t look away from the television.  On the screen, a massive dragon float bedecked in flowers was currently breathing fire, and Gold couldn’t blame her for being more interested in that than she was in his company.  

A few minutes later, Belle and Jefferson rejoined the group, and Jefferson deposited a paper bag in his lap before reclaiming his seat in the armchair.  "Good luck.“

A glance at the shards in the bag told him that restoring the bowl would be no easy task, but it didn’t look impossible.  "I’ll do what I can.”

“Don’t make yourself crazy trying to fix it.  It’s not the end of the world if you can’t,” Belle assured him as she sat down beside him.

“I enjoy little projects like this.”  That was true enough, but what he would most enjoy would be seeing her smile once he repaired the bowl.

If he wanted to make sure Belle knew how committed he was to their relationship, the first step would be to acknowledge it publicly.  Since they arrived at her home, Belle had been careful to touch him only in the most casual of ways, and Gold had appreciated her discretion.  Now, however, the time for discretion had passed.

Public displays of affection were alien to him, and Gold felt like he was trying to move underwater as he set the bag aside and awkwardly wrapped his arm around Belle’s shoulders, the movement stiff and unnatural.  At her look of surprise, he braced himself to be shaken off, but she only relaxed into his side.  

Emboldened by her acceptance of his advance, he brushed his lips against her cheek.  "I’ll do my best,“ he promised, his words encompassing both the bowl and everything else that was happening between them.

"I know you will,” she agreed, her eyes shining.

On his other side, Jefferson whistled tunelessly, the sound drawing Grace’s attention.  When the girl turned to see what was happening, her eyes went wide at the sight of the fearsome Mr. Gold with his arm around her aunt.

“Is he your _boyfriend_?” Grace demanded.  "You didn’t tell me he was your boyfriend!“

Belle made an extraordinary sound in the back of her throat as Gold’s face heated.  Somehow, he hadn’t seen this coming, although he certainly should have.  Next to him, Jefferson was smothering a laugh.

"I am her boyfriend,” Gold answered with as much dignity as he could muster.  It was a ridiculous word to apply to a man of his years, but it would do for the moment.

“Is that okay?” Belle asked her niece.

Gold wasn’t sure what would happen if Grace didn’t approve, but there was no turning back now.

After looking back and forth between them several times, the girl finally shrugged and said grudgingly, “I guess.”

“What a glowing seal of approval,” Jefferson muttered, sounding like he was trying not to laugh.  "Welcome to the family, Gold.“

Although Gold was sure that Jefferson wasn’t being completely sincere, he would take whatever acceptance he could get.  With that said, if he ever did want to be fully welcomed into the French family, he was going to have to force himself to open up to its members.  Making friends with Grace had been easy enough, but extending an olive branch to Jefferson would be a different matter.

When Belle rested her head against his shoulder, he wrapped one of her curls around his fingers, drawing on her silent support.  He could do this.  If Jefferson laughed, the world wouldn’t end.

"You can call me Nachton.”

Jefferson’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the admission.  Gold wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to his unusual first name or just shock that Gold had shared the secret with him at all.  When Belle put her hand on his knee and squeezed, he decided that it didn’t matter.

They had a long road ahead of them, but they’d just taken another step, and each one brought them that much closer to their happily ever after.


	15. Chapter 15

Gold glared at himself in the antique mirror that hung behind the cash register and smoothed back an errant lock of hair that had fallen forward to obscure his peripheral vision by sticking to the side of his face.  Satisfied with the result, he turned away only to snarl a curse when the movement dislodged the lock once again.

His hair looked dreadful today.

No matter what he did with it, it refused to cooperate.  The strands stuck to his face or turned exactly the wrong way or showed far more silver than they had the previous night.  To add insult to injury, the collar of his bespoke shirt felt too tight, and he’d nicked himself shaving, resulting in a thin scab on his jaw.  He was an utter mess, and Belle would be walking through the door any minute.

If he locked the door and ducked out the back now, he might be able to avoid her.  Belle could let herself in, and he could call her from the next block, pretending that he was sick in bed.  She was more than capable of running the shop in his absence, and he could make a miraculous recovery tomorrow if his hair cooperated.  

Of course, if he slunk home, he would be denied Belle’s company for an entire day.  To his surprise, he’d enjoyed spending New Year’s Day in the company of her family, but even though he got on with Jefferson and Grace, he would still relish having Belle all to himself for the duration of her shift at the shop.  With any luck, they would have few customers to interrupt their time together, the denizens of Storybrooke usually too worn out from their festivities to feel up to making deals with him so early in the year.

Short of putting a bag over his head, Gold could think of no way that he could see Belle without her seeing him.  That meant he would have to decide which was stronger: his self-consciousness or his desire to spend time with Belle.

He dithered so long that he was still standing like a statue when Belle pushed the shop’s door open.  "Happy New Year!“

"We already did that,” he reminded her.  He still didn’t believe there was anything magical about an arbitrary number on a calendar even if this year was shaping up to be dramatically different than years past.

After hanging up her coat, Belle stopped in the middle of the shop and simply looked at him.  It took all of Gold’s self control not to lift a hand to smooth back his hair, knowing that any effort he made would be futile.  "What?“

Even though he knew what she was thinking, Gold couldn’t help but feel a flash of amusement.  Now that he’d challenged her, Belle would have to find a way to voice her thoughts, and he couldn’t imagine her coming right out and saying that his hair looked ridiculous.  It was nice to be the one catching _her_ on the wrong foot for a change.  

In response, she simply rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, but Gold wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.  "I’m sorry.  I didn’t quite hear you.”

Her eyes sparkled.  "I _said_ I’m standing under the mistletoe.“

Oh.  She hadn’t been critiquing his hair at all.  What he’d assumed was an eye roll was an attempt to call his attention to the mistletoe ball hanging above her head.

"So you are.”  Even though it was early, the shop was technically open for business.  Was she actually inviting him to walk over and kiss her when anyone could step through the door at any moment?

“You should probably do something about that,” she advised.

“What do you think I should do?”  He was holding onto the handle of his cane so tightly that the embossed embellishments were leaving imprints on his fingers, and Gold still felt like he was about to keel over.  Kissing Belle in the privacy of his own home was one thing.  Kissing her in the middle of the shop was something else entirely.

“I believe kissing is traditional, although it depends how far back you go into history.  The Druids used it to predict the future, and the Romans negotiated peace treaties under it.”  Belle adjusted a pair of imaginary reading glasses to match her professorial tone.  

“So, I guess you have three choices,” she concluded.  "You can read my palm, pick a fight so you can grovel for forgiveness, or get your sexy ass over here and kiss me hello.  I’ll leave it up to you.“

Gold gaped at Belle, reeling from her use of the word ‘sexy’ to describe any part of him.  When he inventoried himself in the mirror, he’d found nothing that deserved to be referred to in such a way, but he hadn’t looked at his ass.  It had never occurred to him to do so.  It had certainly never occurred to him that _Belle_ might be looking at it.  

"Sexy,” he repeated, his voice cracking on the word.

To cover his embarrassing lapse, he tried to make a joke of it.  "I had no idea your eyesight was so poor.“

Belle folded her arms across her chest, her expression unamused by his quip.  "Did you seriously decide that 'pick a fight’ was the best of those three options?”

It was possible that she was teasing him, but it was also possible that Gold had blundered onto very thin ice, and he wasn’t sure which possibility was more likely.  

“Of course not,” he denied as he came around the counter to approach her.  

Taking hold of one of her wrists, he tugged her arms out of their crossed position and lifted her hand to his face.  "I’m going to read your palm.“

As he’d hoped, Belle smiled at his assertion.  "I should have written something on it first.”

Now that he’d volunteered to read her palm, Gold had no idea what he was going to say next.  To stall, he peered intently at her hand, trying to pretend that he was reading the secrets of the universe on her skin.

“You’re going to have a long and happy life.”  That seemed like a safe bet.

“I don’t suppose you see anything a little more specific.  Maybe something about my immediate future?”  Belle arched one eyebrow in challenge.

There was only one possible response to that, and it was painfully forward, but it had been her idea.  "In your immediate future, you’re going to be… kissed.  By an older gentleman.“

When he risked glancing at her, Belle was trying to suppress a smile, a dimple appearing next to her mouth.  "A sexy older gentleman?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment.”  If Belle thought he was sexy, he wasn’t going to try to talk her out of it, even if he couldn’t imagine agreeing with her.

He released her hand to wrap his arm around her waist, cursing the cane that prevented him from putting both of his arms around her.  As if to compensate, Belle immediately looped her arms around his neck, pressing the full length of her body against him as she lifted her face to present him with her lips.

She was making it as easy for him as possible, and Gold took a moment to be grateful for her thoughtfulness.  If she’d feigned even a hint of coyness, he never would have had the nerve to lower his mouth to hers.

Fortunately, Belle was willing to meet him more than halfway.  When he leaned down, she went up on her toes, their lips colliding.  Gold instinctively moved to pull away, but Belle tightened her grip on him to hold him in place, her fingers first grasping the back of his neck to keep him where she wanted him, then, when he yielded to her, she let her fingers slip into his hair, stroking in a way that made his stomach flip over.

Her lips were warm and pliant but still, inviting him to make the first move.  Tentatively, Gold increased the pressure, her upper lip slipping between his.  To reward him for his boldness, Belle trailed her fingers over the back of his neck, making him shiver.  Thus encouraged, Gold tried tilting his head slightly to change the angle, wondering what kind of a difference it would make.

His experiment opened his eyes to an entirely new world.  Until this moment, Gold had thought of a kiss as nothing more than contact between two pairs of lips.  He’d never realized how many possibilities lay within that simple definition.  Every slight change of pressure or angle resulted in a brand new host of sensations sweeping through his body.  

Her upper lip was delectable, but her lower lip was even better.  When he sucked gently on that tempting bit of flesh, Belle made a breathy noise that was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard.  She tugged gently on his hair, making him hesitate as he tried to figure out if that was a signal for him to stop or to keep going.

When she ran her tongue playfully over his upper lip, he had his answer.  A groan tore itself out of his throat at her action as he instinctively clutched her closer, his body seeking the warmth and softness of hers as it responded to her intimate caress.

Mortified, Gold tried to step back so Belle didn’t feel his excitement.  Although she’d expressed interest in going to bed with him, that didn’t mean she wanted to start their workday by feeling his erection poking her in the stomach in the middle of the shop.  It was lewd and crass, and he’d be thoroughly ashamed of himself once enough blood returned to his brain to let him think about anything other than how glorious she felt.

“Easy,” Belle murmured as she put one arm around his waist to keep him pressed against her.

Instantly, Gold stopped fighting, cursing his body.  It wanted nothing more than to be as close to Belle as it could get, her sensibilities be damned.  "I shouldn't…"

“You should _relax_.  Just breathe.”  Belle slipped one hand under his jacket to stroke his back as the other curled around the back of his neck to urge him to lower his head.

She pressed tiny kisses to his jaw and the corner of his mouth, the touch feather-light.  Gold’s breathing was ragged as he tried to follow her instructions, and no matter how hard he tried to remain still, his hips were twitching slightly, the movement completely beyond his control.  He was throbbing against Belle’s stomach, but she only smiled tenderly and kissed him again.

“You feel good,” she praised.

A hungry, desperate noise echoed through the shop, and it took Gold a moment to realize he’d made it.  For no reason that he could fathom, Belle’s words went straight to the base of his cock, making the muscles in his lower back contract, forcing him to press himself against her.  

“Easy, Nachton.  I’ve got you.”  Belle rubbed his back in soothing strokes until Gold felt his body beginning to unclench.  Slowly, the tension ebbed from his muscles and his cock started to soften, leaving him feeling open and raw.

Being vulnerable wasn’t a comfortable state for Gold, and he wanted both to bury his face against Belle’s throat and hide himself away from the world and to snarl and lash out at her until she abandoned him, leaving him desolate but once again safe.

“Thank you,” Belle said sweetly, short-circuiting all of his wiring.

“For what?”  His voice was hoarse as his mind sluggishly began to work again, making him wonder what she could possibly have to be grateful for.

“For kissing me good morning.”  She pressed a quick kiss against his dumbfounded mouth before she carefully released him, making certain that he was steady on his feet.

He straightened his tie as he regained his equanimity.  "I didn’t mean to be so… forthright."

Belle batted his hand away so she could fuss with his tie herself.  "I’m glad you were.”

“You _enjoyed_ that?”  She hadn’t seemed disgusted, which was a relief, but he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that she could be glad to have felt him in such a way.

“Very much.”  She kissed the corner of his mouth.  "I like knowing that I turn you on."

She opened her mouth to say something more, then hesitated and bit her lip.  "Do you want _me_ to be forthright?”

“You can tell me anything,” he assured her.  Gold wasn’t entirely sure he could process anything else at the moment though.  His head was already spinning just from hearing her say that she liked knowing that she excited him.

With a secretive smile, Belle leaned up to whisper in his ear.  "I’m _very_ wet."

His first impulse was to look up to see if the shop’s roof was leaking before her meaning caught up with him, and he nearly collapsed.  "Oh my _god_.”

Belle was wet for him.  Belle was _very_ wet for him.  

He was going to die.

As if realizing he was on the verge of cardiac arrest, Belle took pity on him and said nothing more as she helped him take his place behind the counter just in time for their first customer to enter the shop.  The man was looking to pawn a cheap pocket watch, and Gold was so dazed that he offered him a hundred dollars in return.

“Maybe you should concentrate on paperwork,” Belle suggested as the customer all but ran out of the shop with the money clenched in his fist.  Using the end of a pencil, she poked at the watch with an expression of distaste.

He should say something charming, Gold decided.  Belle would appreciate a compliment or a witty remark.  Unfortunately, nothing was coming to mind.  Being charming wasn’t one of his strengths.  Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he was a fictional character instead of a real person.  If he was a character in a novel, he would always know exactly what to say, but he often found himself at a loss.

A teenager could come up with a more eloquent compliment than 'You’re pretty,’ and 'You taste good’ was even less appropriate.  After what happened at the start of the day, he suspected that Belle could stimulate him to orgasm just by talking to him, but he didn’t have the slightest idea how to return the favor.

Frustrated, he retreated to the back, ostensibly to verify which of his tenants had paid their rent on time.  In practice, he mostly stared at the wall as he tried to formulate a mental list of charming remarks that he could call upon when needed.  Belle probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing about how distracting he found her breasts, but he was having trouble thinking about anything except how soft and wonderful they’d felt when she pressed herself against him.  

He was still agonizing over the matter when Belle poked her head through the curtain hours later.  "It’s lunchtime.  Do you want me to bring you anything from the diner?"

He’d wasted half the day obsessing when he could have been talking to Belle.  Disgusted with himself, Gold pushed himself to his feet.  "If you don’t mind, I’ll join you.”

Her smile told him that she didn’t mind at all.  "I’d like that.  I missed you while you were slaving away back here.  How much more do you have left to do?"

"I just finished,” he lied.  He could do the paperwork tonight after the shop closed.  It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do that evening.

Gold held Belle’s coat for her before shrugging on his own and following her out onto the street.  He paused to lock the shop’s door behind them, then fell into step beside her, warm despite the cold January air.

His relationship with Belle had changed dramatically since New Year’s Eve, but anyone who saw them together would see nothing more than the pawnbroker and his assistant.  Once, that would have pleased him, but now Gold was disquieted by the thought.  Not only did Belle like him, she was attracted to him.  That was something to be proud of.

If he openly acknowledged their relationship, he would be setting her up to be the subject of gossip, but Belle had told him point-blank that she didn’t care what the rest of Storybrooke thought.  She’d even gone so far as to sit on his lap at the Rabbit Hole, and despite his misconception, it hadn’t been to keep drunken louts from bothering her.  Considering that evidence, it seemed unlikely that she would be upset if he tried to hold her hand.

If he gave himself time to think, he would never have the nerve to go through with it, so Gold simply reached out and caught her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.  

Belle looked up with a smile and squeezed his hand before gently bumping his shoulder with her own.  As comfortably as if they walked the streets of Storybrooke hand-in-hand every day, she started telling him about the customers who’d come into the shop while he was holed up in the back room, and Gold could almost ignore the double-takes they were getting from people walking in the opposite direction.

When they reached the diner, he was forced to relinquish her hand so he could open the door for her, but from the way the other patrons stared at them when they entered, the damage had already been done.  Gold stiffened as he followed Belle to a booth, arranging his face into its most forbidding expression.

“Iced tea and a hamburger with extra pickles please,” Belle requested when Ruby approached them.

“The same,” Gold grunted.  He hated pickles.

On the other side of the booth, Belle was telling him about a change she wanted to make to the shop’s website, but Gold couldn’t hear a word she said.  Instead, his ears strained to catch the furious whispers being exchanged all around them.

“I guess money _can_ buy everything.”

“… always thought she had some class.”

“… miserable old cripple…”

“… crazy as her brother.”

“You know what they say about Australians…”

“Hey.   _Hey_.”

Gold blinked, coming out of his daze to find Belle looking at him intently.  At some point, Ruby had delivered their food, and he glared down at the hamburger in front of him, trying to remember if that was what he’d ordered.

“What did that poor burger do to you?” Belle teased.

“People are talking about us.”  He turned his face away from the room, keeping his voice low enough not to be overheard.

“Don’t listen.”  Her advice was either very good or very naive, but Gold wasn’t sure she’d recommend the same thing if she knew what people were saying about her.  She could hardly help being offended if she knew that the gossips of Storybrooke had pegged her as a gold-digger.

The thought of her overhearing their unkind words chilled him.  Seeking a distraction, Gold picked up the ketchup bottle and raised his voice as he started speaking quickly.  "Do you like ketchup?  It’s amazing how it changes the flavor of food.  When you think about it, condiments are almost like magic.  A hard-boiled egg is just an egg until you add mayonnaise, and then it become egg salad."

He was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.  "I’m sure you’ve tried things I’ve never even heard of.  What sorts of condiments do they use in Thailand?  I started working on your bowl last night, and I think it can be repaired, but—”

“Stop.”  Belle reached across the table to pry his fingers off the ketchup bottle and set it aside.  

With nothing to do with his hands, Gold folded them in his lap and stared down at his hamburger as his face threatened to catch fire.  After that performance, Belle had to think he was a blithering idiot.  

“We don’t have to do this,” she said softly.

His stomach curdled as he realized what she was saying.  He’d warned her that he had no idea how to be in a relationship, and she’d assured him that it didn’t matter, but she’d clearly overestimated his abilities.  Now that she saw what a buffoon he was, Belle was ready to throw in the towel on him.

“I’ll get us a couple of to-go boxes, and we’ll go back to the shop.  We’ll eat… make out a little…”  She smiled crookedly.  "If you’re not comfortable being out in public with me yet, that’s okay.  We agreed to take it slow."

He’d misunderstood her.  Again.  Belle had been referring to their lunch, not their entire relationship, when she suggested they give up.  At least he’d caught on more quickly this time.

"People shouldn’t gossip about you.”  It was unfair that his poor reputation should influence how people saw Belle.

She leaned a little closer like she was preparing to confide a secret.  "People _always_ gossip about me.  I’m weird."

Her words surprised a rusty chuckle out of him.  "That explains a lot.”

She ignored the comment.  "I don’t care what people say about me or about us.  I’m not ashamed be with you."

Gold caught his breath, feeling dangerously close to tears.  "I’m very… proud.  That you… you deem me worthy of your company.”

“Come here.”

When he leaned across the table, Belle pressed her lips firmly against his and the diner went silent.

Gold’s heart thundered in his chest as she sat back with an arch smile.  "That’s for being too charming for your own good."

Belle didn’t care what anyone else thought, and she thought he was charming.  Maybe he didn’t need to worry so much.

When she moved to flag down Ruby, he stayed her hand.  "Let’s eat here.”

“Are you sure?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced around, seeing faces staring at their booth in shock.  Sitting up a little straighter, he allowed himself to smile at her.  Belle thought he was charming, and she just kissed him in the middle of the diner.  If that wasn’t something to smile about, he didn’t know what was.  "I’m sure."

As long as Belle thought the best of him, it didn’t matter what the rest of Storybrooke thought.  

Maybe he’d been going at this all wrong.  He’d been trying to make himself into something he wasn’t with scripted compliments and grand gestures, but Belle had liked him when he was a miserable grouch.  Maybe he didn’t have to try so hard.  He could be himself, just… better.

"Do you want my pickles?”

Belle’s eyes lit up at the offer, and he tilted his plate so she could help herself to the slices more easily.  "You ordered extras so I could have them?  That’s really sweet."

From now on, he would order extra pickles with every meal.  Grand romance was probably beyond him, but he could manage small gestures like ordering pickles and fixing things for her.  They weren’t the sorts of things anyone would ever put in a book, but he and Belle weren’t fictional characters.  

Gold had always sought the escape offered by fiction, but ever since he met Belle, he’d been more than happy to live in the real world.  The universe she lived in was the place he wanted to be, gossip, demanding customers, and all the other petty irritations of life insignificant in comparison to the pleasure of her company.

He chuckled as she happily crunched into a pickle and allowed himself to forget that other people existed.  If they wanted to gossip, so be it.  If Belle didn’t care what they thought, neither did he.  

Belle’s opinion was the only one that mattered.  And _she_ thought he was charming.

Perhaps he could arrange to catch her under the mistletoe again before they reopened the shop for the afternoon.


	16. Chapter 16

Gold cursed under his breath as he glared down at his ledger.  This was the fourth time he’d added this particular column of numbers, and he’d gotten a different total every single time.

In frustration, he closed the book, hissing in pain when the edge of a page caught the side of his finger, slicing deep.  With more force than necessary, he slammed the book onto the counter before raising his hand to inspect the thin line of blood welling up from the paper cut on the side of his index finger.

Grumbling, he withdrew his pocket square to apply pressure to the minor wound, realizing belatedly that the blood was going to stain the light blue silk.

“Are you okay?”  Belle voice came from the opposite side of the front room where she’d been rearranging one of the displays while he worked on end of the month paperwork.

“Fine,” Gold grunted in reply, aware that his current problems were too minor to complain about.

The entire day had been filled with petty irritations like this.  The sky had been dark when he woke, giving way to a steady, icy rain.  In the morning, he’d been forced to deal with customers who were incapable of understanding that the market for their parents’ china was so glutted that the pieces were practically worthless even if they’d only been used twice.  At lunchtime, he’d dropped the takeout bag Ruby had given him, leaving him and Belle to try to restuff their dented sandwiches before eating them, and he’d found a UPC sticker on one of his slices of tomato.  Now, none of the numbers in his ledger were adding up, and he was bleeding.

It wasn’t even two o'clock, and he was ready to be done with the day.  Had Belle not been there, he would have locked the door and flipped the sign before heading home in hopes that a book and a cup of tea would help him forget how miserable the world could be.  If not, he’d pour a glass of something stronger and turn in early.

However, Belle _was_ there, and she didn’t seem to be having the same horrendous day that he was experiencing.  Although he could leave her to run the shop by herself while he went home, she was likely to want an explanation for why he was leaving early, and what could he say in response?  Listing all of the day’s frustrations would only make him sound like a querulous child.  

“Did you hurt yourself?”  Her high heels clicked against the floor as she hurried over to him to inspect the wound.

Stomach twisting with humiliation that she’d caught him making a fuss over a paper cut, Gold jerked his hand away from her.  "It’s nothing.“

"Well, you’re bleeding, so it’s not nothing,” Belle observed calmly.

Face hot, he shoved his pocket square, now decorated with smears of blood, back into his jacket pocket.  "I said it’s _fine_.“

She took half a step back at his snarl.  "Why don’t you go sit in the back for a while and relax?  Maybe make a cup of tea?”

Although the last thing he wanted was to be there, being told to leave his own shop set Gold’s teeth on edge.  "I’ll thank you not to tell me what to do.“

"Is there a reason you’re acting like this?”  Belle was looking at him like he was a specimen under a microscope.

Her scrutiny failed to improve his mood.  "This is my personality.  I thought you were aware of that by now."

"No, it’s really not,” she denied.  

“Ah, but it is.  You’ve already informed me that I’m an asshole.”  Gold took grim pleasure in throwing that word back in her face even though she’d said it fondly.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.  Come find me when your mood is a little less foul.”  Without another word, Belle turned on her heel and marched into the back, pulling the curtain shut behind her.

If they continued their spat, it was unlikely to lead anywhere good, but having Belle walk away from him only added to the day’s indignities.  It was obvious that he was in distress.  She should be trying to comfort him, not washing her hands of him.

He wallowed in his bruised feelings, carefully ignoring the fact that Belle _had_ tried to comfort him, only for him to lash out at her.  That wasn’t important.  What mattered was that she’d turned her back on him when he needed her.  She’d abandoned him to run the shop by himself while she did whatever she was doing in the back.

Feeling ill-used, Gold scared off the next two customers in record time, but even that failed to brighten his black mood.  He didn’t want to stand here like a statue and make snide remarks; he wanted to howl and smash things.  Maybe that would alleviate whatever was clawing at the back of his mind.

Belle stuck her head around the curtain exactly once, then retreated again after taking a brief look at him.  In the back room, he could hear the kettle whistling, so she was obviously making tea, but she didn’t bring him a cup, probably fearing that he’d throw it at her.

To stoke the flames of his anger, Gold mentally recapped all of the miseries of the day, frowning at the short list.  It felt like everything was going wrong, but when he actually thought about it, nothing dramatic had happened.  He was terrorizing Belle over a paper cut.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Gold cast his eyes around the shop, looking for the source of his foul mood.  Physically, he felt fine, and a somewhat puzzled Dr. Whale had assured him that he was the picture of health when Gold reported to the doctor for a comprehensive exam.  Outside, the weather was still dreary, but since it was the middle of winter in Maine, there was nothing unusual about that.  He’d gotten a decent night’s sleep and had eaten both breakfast and lunch.

He wasn’t hungry, wasn’t tired, and wasn’t sick.  He was just miserable, and he couldn’t put his finger on why.

As he looked around, his eyes strayed to the calendar.  Although several of the other days had notations written on them, this entire week was blank, meaning that he wasn’t reacting to an upcoming dreaded event.  By all measures, everything was fine, but he still felt the urge to smash everything he owned.

Even though nothing was written there, his gaze kept returning to the calendar in his quest for answers.  The calendar wasn’t particularly helpful.  It was a Tuesday, which wasn’t one of his favorite days of the week, but he had no particular aversion to them.  It was the twenty-eighth of January.  

Oh.

Gold doubled over with a curse, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.  He’d forgotten.  How could he have forgotten?

His cane clattered to the floor as he braced himself on the counter, his hands curling into fists as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from crying out.  Over the roaring in his ears, he heard the click of Belle’s heels and felt the touch of her hand between his shoulder blades.

The touch was gone as quickly as it came.  The world swam around Gold as he watched Belle run for the door, locking it and flipping the sign before she returned to his side.  "Come sit down.“

She took firm hold of his arm and all but dragged him into the back before pushing him into a chair.  Head spinning, he stared down at his hands as all of the things that had been lurking in the back of his mind assailed him.

As of today, it had been twenty-six years.

Belle plunked a bottle of water down on the table near his elbow, then sat down beside him.  He’d treated her shamefully today, but she was still looking after him, proving yet again that her soul was the purest he’d ever known.  

Reaching up, he loosened his tie and undid the first two buttons on his shirt.  "I apologize for my behavior today.”

The words sounded like they were coming from miles away, and he wondered if he was losing his hearing or his mind.  At the moment, either seemed possible.

Belle was poised on the edge of her chair.  "Should I call a doctor?“

Considering her past, she was probably afraid he was about to drop dead from cardiac arrest or a stroke or some other nasty surprise.  On that matter, at least, he could set her mind at ease.  Physically, there was nothing wrong with him.  "No.  I'm… fine.”

It had to be obvious that he was anything but fine, but Belle relaxed a little at his assurance.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

He would rather walk over hot coals than talk about it, but Gold was self-aware enough to realize that he didn’t have a choice.  He couldn’t snarl at her for hours, then apologize and think that all was well.  She was going to expect answers.  

Baring his soul wasn’t comfortable for Gold.  Other than his aunties, he’d never had any close confidants.  His secrets were his own, and he preferred to keep it that way.  What went on inside his head wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Belle, however, wasn’t just anyone.  She was the most important person in his life.  He’d trusted her with his other secrets, and he was better for it.  There could be no real harm in sharing this one with her.  The telling would hurt, but he already felt like death.

"It’s the anniversary.”

At her uncomprehending look, Gold swallowed hard and forced himself to elaborate.  " _Bae’s_ anniversary.  I lost him twenty-six years ago today."

"Oh, Nachton.”  Whatever wariness had been lingering in Belle’s body language vanished.  She scooted her chair closer to take his hands in her own, her thumbs caressing the back of his fingers.

“I’m _so_ sorry.  No wonder you’ve been having such a hard day.”  Her sympathetic smile forgave him for everything.

He didn’t deserve such easy absolution.  "I forgot until I looked at the calendar.  Didn’t even think of it.  Who could forget something like that?"

Belle shook her head.  "I don’t think you really forgot.  It’s obviously been bothering you all day.  You just blocked it out because it hurts.  That’s normal.”

Whether he deserved it or not, Gold clung to the comfort her words offered.  "I’ve been a bear today."

"It’s already forgotten.”  

Lifting his hands to her mouth, she kissed the back of each in turn, then held them on her own lap.  "Will you tell me about Bae?“

Until she asked the question, Gold would have assumed that he wanted to do no such thing.  Just thinking about his boy was agonizing.  Actually sharing his precious memories might kill him.

Instead, he found that he was desperate to talk about Bae.  "He liked dinosaurs.  He could name dozens of them.  He was so smart and so curious, always getting into everything.  He asked thousands of questions.  He followed me everywhere.”

With every word he spoke, the memories grew sharper and more immediate until he could clearly picture the boy he hadn’t seen in twenty-six years like Bae was standing in front of him.  

“He was _such_ a good boy.”  It was impossible to believe that his beloved child was thirty-one years old now.  To Gold, Bae was frozen in time, forever an irrepressible five year old.  

“He loved animals and playing ball.”  The memories poured out of him in no coherent order like he’d upended the box they filled in his mind.  

As he talked, Belle nodded encouragement, listening with what looked like genuine interest.  She smiled when he shared something funny or charming and squeezed his hands when he told her about the time Bae had fallen out of a tree and broken his arm.  Even twenty-six years later, Gold still felt guilty for not keeping a closer eye on his boy.

He talked until his mouth went dry, then he drank the bottle of water and talked more.  Bae would have loved Belle, and she would have adored him.  No one could help but love Bae.  If he was here, everything would be perfect.  The little boy could play with Grace and help him take care of Archimedes and bring joy even to the most dreadful days.

Except if he was here, he would be an adult.  Gold could never seem to remember that.  His boy was only a year younger than Belle, and that was a very strange thought.

“How did you come to raise him?” Belle asked when he stumbled to a halt.

He should have seen that question coming.  Telling her the truth would make him look like a complete idiot, but he couldn’t possibly lie to her.  If she could accept him being a virgin, hopefully she would be able to take this in stride as well.  He could always gloss over the worst of it.

“Milah—Bae’s mother—and I were… friends.  We met at university.  I invited her to come home with me over winter break during our final year.”  

Although he’d tried to word things carefully, Belle’s eyes narrowed with thought before she nodded her understanding.  "I see.“

The way she said the two words told Gold that she’d understood what he didn’t say.  He’d been taken with Milah, something his younger self had assumed was a precursor to love, and he’d thought she felt the same way about him.  She certainly hadn’t been shy about letting him know she was attracted to him.

"I was fond of her,” he confirmed.  "I wanted her to meet my family.“

At university, he’d devoted himself to his studies, but Gold had been aware that he was nearing the end of his schooling.  He’d wanted to see if his aunties approved of Milah so he would have their blessing to court her after they graduated.  At the time, he’d thought his inexperience with women made him doubt his ability to judge whether she would be a good match for him.  Now, he wondered if he’d subconsciously realized that something with Milah wasn’t quite right.

"If all went well, I intended to pursue a relationship with her.”  He’d envisioned marriage and children in his future, a simple life filled with family and happiness.

As always, things hadn’t worked out as he’d planned.

“Did she know that was what you were thinking?” Belle asked.

Considering what a mess he’d made of their relationship, he couldn’t blame her for having doubts.  In those days, he’d been slightly more competent in these matters.  "She knew I was waiting until I finished university to pursue a serious relationship.  I believe she understood my intentions.“

Milah hadn’t quite understood why they couldn’t have casual sex in the meantime, but Gold had done his best to assure her that he didn’t mean for her to wait for him.  If she wanted to seek out other company, he would accept it, but she’d told him he was worth waiting for.

In the end, she changed her mind.  "She met Bae’s father during her visit.”

Belle winced.  "Ouch.  That must have hurt."

"It wasn’t pleasant,” he admitted.  Looking back, Gold could see that Milah had hurt his pride more than his heart.  He’d been humiliated and disappointed, not devastated.  At the time, it had been a blow, but in the long run he’d shaken it off without too much damage.

If Belle was ever unfaithful to him, he wouldn’t recover so easily.  Fortunately, she and Milah were _very_ different people.  

“Some time after we returned to school, she discovered she was pregnant.  Bae’s father was… not interested.”  Milah had wronged him, but he hadn’t been able to help but feel sorry for her.  It wasn’t easy to think you were special and find out otherwise.

“She told me she planned to get rid of it.  Said she didn’t want to, but she didn’t have a choice.”  Even now, he wasn’t sure if she’d been trying to manipulate him.  He wanted to give his son’s mother the benefit of the doubt, but knowing Milah as he knew her now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been leading him by the nose.

“I didn’t think she should be forced to take that step if she didn’t want to, so I offered to support her and the child until she was able to get on her feet.”  It pained him to think that Milah had seen Bae as nothing more than a trump card to be played in order to get what she wanted, but she’d never taken any interest in the boy after he was born.

“So, that’s how I came to raise Bae.  You know what happened from there.  Twenty-six years ago today, I came home to find them gone.  I haven’t seen Bae since,” he concluded.  Even knowing what he knew now, he would make the same decision to take Milah in since she’d brought Bae with her.  He couldn’t regret a single moment that he’d spent with his boy.

Belle’s eyebrows drew together.  "Did I miss something?“

"I’m sorry?”  He thought he’d explained the situation in enough detail for her to follow it.

“I don’t see how agreeing to help her until she got on her feet translated to you raising her child for five years.  I mean, that’s a _long_ time.”  She turned puzzled eyes on him.  "What was _she_ doing for five years?“

"Whatever she wanted.  Although she claimed to want Bae, she never had much use for him.”  Although he wasn’t sorry to have had his boy to himself, Gold couldn’t help but resent the way Milah had neglected him.   _Everyone_ should love Bae, especially his own mother.

Perhaps he was being unfair.  "She didn’t take to parenthood.  I enjoyed it, so it made sense for me to raise him."

"Yes, but…”  Belle waved her hands helplessly.  "That’s a _big_ commitment.  Did you get married?"

"No.”  He’d drawn the line at that despite Milah’s efforts to convince him otherwise.  In hindsight, that had been a very big mistake.  Had he been Bae’s stepfather, he might have had more leverage for a custody battle.

“And you didn’t adopt Bae.”  

Stung by her perceived censure, he hastened to defend himself.  "I tried to.  Milah refused to allow it."

"Your college girlfriend got pregnant by another man, and you raised the baby for five years.”  Belle let out a long breath.  "That’s kind of amazingly self-sacrificing."

He wasn’t sure what to make of her tone.  "Isn’t that what you’re doing with Grace?”

She was silent for a moment as she digested his question.  "Sort of, I guess.  I suppose it feels different because Grace is my niece.  I’m helping my brother.  You didn’t have that kind of family connection.  Milah was just—"

Belle closed her mouth so fast that he could hear her teeth click together.  "I’m sorry.  I’m an idiot, and I’m being _really_ insensitive.  You must have loved her very much."

That was a reasonable enough conclusion to draw.  It was also utterly wrong.  Any fond feelings he’d had for Milah had died during that eventful visit, and her subsequent neglect of Bae had done nothing to rekindle them.  "Not at all.  My infatuation with her was short-lived.”

Even if he’d wanted to, he never would have been able to overlook her indiscretion.  Gold couldn’t imagine any other man feeling differently.

“Then why…?”  Belle trailed off and gave him a rueful smile.  "I should stop digging and accept the obvious: you did it because you’re a really good person."

He’d done nothing to deserve her praise.  "You give me too much credit.  I simply felt responsible because if I hadn’t invited her to visit, she never would have met Bae’s father.”

Had he never issued that fateful invitation, his life would look very different now.  In that case, it might have been happier, but he never would have had Bae, and it was possible that he wouldn’t have met Belle.  That was too high of a price to pay.

Belle nudged him with her foot.  "Oh, stop.  It’s okay to accept a compliment.  I know you’re committed to your evil Mr. Gold persona, but I already know the truth.  You’re a good person, Nachton.  Don’t worry.  I won’t tell anybody."

Her eyes danced with amusement, and Gold couldn’t help but smile in response to her teasing.  "I trust you to keep my secrets.”

“Good.”  Belle rose from her chair and deposited herself on his good knee, perching carefully to make sure he didn’t take too much of her weight.

Gold sighed as she cradled his face in her hands and brushed her lips against his.  When Belle took down the Christmas decorations, he’d rescued the mistletoe ball from the trash and stashed it in the back.  He hadn’t yet had the nerve to rehang it, but so far, it hadn’t been necessary.  They were doing all right by themselves, no mistletoe required.

“It means a lot to me that you trusted me with this.”  Belle rubbed her nose against his.

Her words made him feel like he’d been doused with cold water.  Although he’d told her the truth, he hadn’t told her all of it, and the omission niggled at him.  It felt uncomfortably like lying.

“How do you feel now that you talked about it?  Better?  Or…?”  Her eyes were dark with concern.

“Better,” he croaked.  It was almost true.  Talking about Bae had been a relief, like steam escaping from a pressure valve.  The loss would never stop hurting, but there was comfort to be found in his memories.

“Good.”  Belle leaned in for another gentle kiss.  "I’m happy to listen any time you want to talk about your son."

When she moved to get up, Gold grabbed her waist to hold her in place.  He had to tell her, and if he didn’t do it now, he never would.  He just _couldn’t._

"Nachton?  What’s wrong?”  Belle’s fingers carded through his hair in soothing strokes.

“There’s more,” he gritted out.  

“Okay.”  She adjusted herself more comfortably on his lap, her gentle strokes not faltering.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it, and as the minutes ticked away, Belle kept petting him.  Finally, she spoke again.  "You don’t have to tell me if it hurts too much.  I’m trying to make you feel better, not worse.  Tell me later or don’t tell me at all.  It’s okay."

Gold stared at the small diamond sparkling in her left earlobe, the concern in her eyes more than he could endure.  She wouldn’t think less of him if he told her.  Anyone else would laugh, but not Belle.  She wouldn’t laugh, and she wouldn’t betray his confidence.  

If he wanted her to trust him with her heart, he had to trust her with his.

Feeling like he was cracking open his ribcage to show her his beating heart, Gold managed to rasp, "Bae isn’t my son.”

“I know.”  Belle wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and squeezed gently, grounding him.

“He’s my half-brother.”


	17. Chapter 17

His confession hung uncomfortably in the air between them as Belle stared at him.  Gold had known that she wouldn’t laugh, and she didn’t, but he’d expected her to react in _some_ way.  Instead, she was just looking at him, her face so utterly blank that he started to question whether he’d actually spoken the words aloud.

Finally, she exploded.

“Your _dad_?  She slept with your _dad_?  If he’s your half brother, that’s the only thing that— oh my god.  Oh my _god_ , Nachton.  How could she… how could he…?  That’s horrifying!”  As she ranted, Belle moved back on his lap in what was either an attempt to see him better or an effort to get away from him.

Either way, if she kept moving, she was going to fall to the floor.  Noticing the danger, Gold splayed a hand over her back to keep her secure.  If she didn’t want him near her, she could shove him away.  

Belle made no move to do any such thing, too intent on her diatribe.  "That’s _sick_!  How could anybody _do_ that?"

Her shocked outrage comforted him in a strange way.  It was nice to have validation that his hurt and anger were justified, something that he’d never had before.  Both Milah and his father had chided him for overreacting, and although his aunties had been disgusted, they were too inured to Malcolm’s antics to even pretend to be surprised.  

"How did you find out?  Did they _tell_ you?  How would you even start a conversation like that?”  She crinkled her nose in consternation.

“I walked in on them.”  Even now, that image was burned into his head, much as he tried not to allow it to surface.  If he lived to be a hundred, he would never be able to banish the memory of bare skin and the sound of laughter over the slap of flesh on flesh.

Belle looked like she was going to be sick.  "That’s awful."

"It wasn’t one of my better holidays,” he said dryly.  Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really be blamed for his knee-jerk disdain for the holiday season.  

Her face was screwed up in revulsion.  "That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.  How did that even _happen_?  Didn’t he know that Milah was with you?  Did she not realize that he was your dad?  I can’t even _imagine_ …"

It was like Belle to want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but he was going to have to disillusion her.  "He knew.  I believe that was the entire point— to prove that she would choose him over me.  And she did."

In hindsight, Gold could see that it hadn’t been about Milah at all.  His father would have behaved the same way no matter who he brought home.  Any woman that Nachton chose would have been fair game for Malcolm, just for the fun of taking her away from his son.  It had simply been a stroke of good fortune for him that he’d found an enthusiastic accomplice in Milah.  

Belle shuddered.  "That’s disgusting.  I can’t believe a father would act like that.”

“He was never much of a father to me.  As you know, he pawned me off on my aunts at a young age, a fact for which I am eternally grateful.  If anything, he saw me as competition.  There certainly wasn’t any family loyalty.”  Malcolm had firmly believed that everything his son had should be his by right.  Any money Nachton earned should go into Malcolm’s pocket.  Any success his son achieved, he would either take credit for or disparage until Nachton no longer found any pride in it.  Any woman for whom Nachton developed feelings would become a pawn to be seduced away.  Malcolm didn’t believe in loyalty or love.  He believed in winning at any cost.

When he risked looking at Belle again to gauge her reaction, he found a faraway look on her face as she gazed into the middle distance.  "Belle?"

With a shake of her head, she came back to herself.  "I was trying to imagine how I’d react if Jefferson decided to seduce one of my boyfriends.  I’m honestly not sure I could ever get over that kind of betrayal, and we have a really good relationship.  It’s no wonder you’re estranged from your father.  I mean, the womanizing you told me about was bad enough, but this is unforgivable.”

“It’s not something I fixate on, but I certainly never forgave him.”  Over the years, Gold had made an art of holding a grudge, and his father had taught him some of his earliest lessons.

“Is he still alive?”

Her question caught him off-guard.  "I honestly don’t know.  No one has come after me to repay his debts, so it’s possible, but he’d be in his nineties by now.  Why do you ask?"

Belle’s eyes were cold as flint.  "Because I’d like to see him try that trick with me.”

“You want him to seduce you?”  He was reasonably sure he’d misunderstood her.

Instead, she nodded her agreement.  "I’d like to see his face when I tell him he’s disgusting and I wouldn’t sleep with him if he was the last man on earth before I slap the taste out of his mouth.  Maybe that would take him down a few pegs."

Gold closed his eyes to better picture her vengeful fantasy.  He would give quite a lot to see Belle slap his father even as he cringed at the idea of her being anywhere near the man.  "Sadly, I doubt it would puncture his overinflated ego.”

“I’d still enjoy trying.  Ugh.  What a _jerk_.”  Her voice heaped more scorn on the mild insult than could be achieved by any number of more colorful expletives.

“I’m not sure how I feel about Milah.  I mean _yuck_ , but I did stupid things when I was twenty too.  Not _that_ stupid, but if you’re young and dumb and an older guy is saying all of the right things…”  She trailed off with a sigh, her brow furrowing in consternation.

Even her lukewarm defense of Milah raised Gold’s hackles.  Belle was supposed to be on _his_ side, not take the part of his erstwhile former girlfriend.  For that reason, his voice was harsh when he explained exactly what Milah had seen in his father.  "He told her he was rich and looking for someone to spoil.  She was very put-out when she discovered his wealthy playboy act was only a facade."

The noise of disgust Belle made told him that she’d decided Milah didn’t deserve her compassion.  "I learned later that she’d been sleeping around the entire time I thought she was waiting for me.  I could forgive that, but not the lying.  And certainly not sleeping with my _father_.”

“I don’t know how anyone could forgive that,” she agreed.

“Apparently, she saw me as an investment.  I had high earning potential and was… easily led.”  Even decades later, his gut still twisted with humiliation at her unflattering assessment of him.  He’d spent years making certain that no one could ever get the better of him again, and until Belle, no one had.

“For her, finding a wealthy older man looking for a trophy wife was like hitting the jackpot.  Why wait for me to establish myself when she could have it all right now?  It was her bad luck that my father wasn’t who he claimed to be.”  It was almost a shame that Milah and his father had never tried to make a go of it.  Gold couldn’t think of two people who deserved each other more.

“She betrayed you twice over.  Or three times.  I’ve kind of lost count.”  Belle rested her head against his shoulder.  "It’s no wonder you swore off sex and relationships.  After that, anybody would.  I can’t believe you volunteered to take responsibility for her child."

Gold slipped his arm around her waist to hold her against him, taking comfort in her nearness as he relived some of his worst memories.  "At the time, I didn’t know how low her opinion of me actually was.  It took me years to plumb the depths of her selfishness.  Initially, I saw us both as victims of Malcolm Gold and felt compassion for her.  And I did feel a measure of responsibility.  If I hadn’t invited her to visit, she never would have met my father.”

Milah had been careful to repeatedly remind him of that fact, a manipulative tactic to which his younger self had been blind.  "I didn’t feel guilty enough to marry her, as she suggested, but I wasn’t immune to her crocodile tears.  By the time I saw her clearly, I’d fallen in love with Bae.  Since supporting her was the price for keeping him, I was willing to do it."

At least he’d had five wonderful years with his boy.  No matter what else had gone wrong, nothing could take those memories from him.  For five years, he’d been happy.

"You said she refused to let you adopt him,” Belle prompted.

“Payback for refusing to marry her, I believe.  In hindsight, I should have swallowed my pride, but at the time, I just couldn’t.  After seeing her with my father, the idea of giving her my name, let alone touching her, revolted me.”  At the time of Bae’s birth, having a child out of wedlock wasn’t as socially unacceptable as it would have been a decade or two earlier, but it would have been much neater for Milah to have a wedding ring on her finger, not to mention a legal claim to his earnings.

Belle looked up at him.  "What did you think was going to happen?  Did you expect to support Milah indefinitely or did you have another plan?"

Since telling this story made him look like a complete idiot, Gold couldn’t blame her for questioning him.  "Milah never lacked for male company.  I knew she would meet someone else.  In truth, I was counting on it.  She never had much interest in being a mother.  It was only a matter of time until she packed up and left.  I just didn’t think she would take Bae with her when she did.  I suppose I thought I could have everything— my son and my… principles.”

If he’d compromised those principles, he might still have Bae in his life.  Gold would never be able to forgive himself for making such a colossal mistake.

“Instead she took everything from you.”  Belle curled her fingers loosely around the back of his neck.  "Oh, Nachton, I’m so sorry."

"I was a fool, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”  He’d assumed that the inconvenience of parenting a young child would outweigh Milah’s desire to hurt him, and he’d been wrong.  He was always wrong when it mattered.

“The worst moment of my life was when I came home to find them gone.  I immediately filed papers to sue for custody, but the judge dismissed my case.  I wasn’t Bae’s father.  I wasn’t his stepfather.  I was nothing.”  He hadn’t even gotten the satisfaction of looking Milah in the face and asking why or trying to make a deal.  He never would have been able to persuade her to give him Bae, but Milah’s mercenary streak was a mile wide.  Face-to-face, he might have been able to convince her to sell him the boy.

“I hope he had a father.”  Maybe he was being unfair to Milah.  Perhaps she’d taken Bae, not to hurt him, but because Killian wanted a son.  Imagining that Milah had woken up one day and decided she wanted to be a mother was unrealistic, but maybe her new lover had more of an interest in Bae.

The alternative—that neither of them had had any patience for the little boy— was too terrible to contemplate.  Bae deserved the world.  He certainly deserved a parent who loved him.  If Gold couldn’t be that parent, he could only hope that someone else had filled that void.

“He did.  You.”  

When Gold winced, Belle hastened to explain.  "I know we’ve argued about whether he would remember you or not.  I still think it’s possible, but even if he doesn’t, you were still his dad.  The first few years of a person’s life are the building blocks for everything else.  You taught him what it means to be happy and secure and safe and loved.  You gave him a solid foundation for the rest of his life.  That’s _huge_."

As he opened his mouth, she barreled on.  "Don’t you dare argue with me.  I read a bunch of early childhood development books when Grace was born.  The first few years are crucial.  Even if he doesn’t remember a single thing you did together, you molded him into the person he grew up to become.”

“I was going to say thank you.”  His throat felt tight at Belle’s impassioned speech.  If she was correct, he’d done right by his boy even if he’d lost him far too soon.  

“You’re welcome.”  Warm lips brushed his jaw.

Gold sighed as he pulled her a little closer.  "It’s better if he doesn’t remember me."

For twenty-six years, he’d felt the ache of loss, Bae’s absence a void in his life.  That was bad enough, but it was far worse to think that Bae felt the same pain.

Belle gave him a gentle prod.  "Don’t say that.  Anyone’s life would be better for having you in it.”

Her defense warmed his heart.  "I meant that I hate the thought of him missing me."

"Oh.  Yeah.  I didn’t think of that.”  Belle puffed out her cheeks and exhaled a long breath.  "Shit."

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her blunt assessment even though it wasn’t really funny.  "That certainly sums it up.”

She slumped against him, and Gold rested the side of his face against her hair as he breathed her in.  He should feel guilty for dumping his own misery onto her shoulders, but it felt so good to have someone to commiserate with that he couldn’t bring himself to regret sharing this with her.  It wasn’t fair to make her shoulder his burden, but it was nice to have someone to help him carry the load.

Suddenly, Belle jerked her head up, forcing him to jolt back so she didn’t break his nose.  "But this is good!"

He failed to see what was good about this situation.  "I beg your pardon?”

“The DNA kit!” Belle blurted, her face flushing as she started to wave her hands in excitement.

“What about it?”  They’d already established that if Bae attempted to find his biological father, the kit wouldn’t identify Gold.

“It finds blood relatives.  You and Bae are related by blood,” she explained.

“I’m aware of that, but I still don’t understand.  Presumably, he’d be interested in finding his father, not his half-brother.”  The odds were slim that Milah had ever told Bae anything about him, and she certainly wouldn’t have told the boy that they shared a biological father.

“Maybe, but at least it’s _something_.  If I found out I had a half-sibling, I’d be curious enough to get in touch.”  Belle gave him an expectant look.

He couldn’t share in her enthusiasm.  "It seems like a long shot."

"If I was looking for my dad, a half-sibling would be a good source of information.  It’s up to you whether you want to try or not, but the kit is a lot more useful now than it was when I thought Bae’s father was some random guy off the street.”  Although Belle’s words said that the choice was his, her expression stated clearly that she thought he would be a fool not to at least try the kit.

Although she had a valid point, she hadn’t thought the situation all the way through.  "You’re forgetting something."

"What am I forgetting?”

“It’s unlikely that Bae and I are the only two children Malcolm Gold fathered.  I assume I have dozens of half siblings.  If Bae goes looking for his biological father, the odds of him singling me out to make contact are slim.”  Although he knew he’d mentioned his potential plethora of half siblings before, he didn’t blame Belle for assuming he was exaggerating.  Now, she presumably realized he was serious.

Belle nibbled mulishly on her bottom lip.  "You’re right."

That wasn’t a concession she made often, but Gold wasn’t able to enjoy it.  It wasn’t until Belle agreed with him that he realized how badly he’d wanted her to convince him that there was a very good chance that doing the kit would bring Bae back to him.

"But—” She held up a triumphant finger.  "Look at it like this: Bae finding you is like finding a needle in a haystack, right?"

"Aye.”  With modern technology, the task wouldn’t be impossible, just unlikely.  And that was assuming that Bae was even looking for him.  For all he knew, Killian had bought the boy a dog and taught him to ride a bike and done all of the other things that Gold had wanted to do.  Bae might be so happy with his replacement father that he would never feel the need to find his biological one, let alone the man who’d raised him for the first five years of his life.

“Doing the DNA kit is like putting a spotlight on the place where the needle is.  It narrows down the search.  Maybe there are other haystacks with other spotlights.  I don’t know.  But at least it’s something that says ‘Hey, look over here.’”  

She gave his tie a gentle tug.  "If you do the kit, he might not find you.  If you don’t do the kit, he _definitely_ won’t."

When she put it like that, the answer seemed obvious, but Gold still had reservations.  Could he live with the anxiety of waking up every day wondering if this was the day Bae would contact him?  That desperate hope might be more painful than living with the knowledge that his boy was lost to him.

Was there any price that was too high to pay for the chance to get Bae back?

To his shame, Gold found himself resenting the decision.  In theory, he would do anything to see Bae again, but that was easy to say when there was nothing he could do.  He’d made his peace— as much as he could— with losing his boy.  With Belle, he’d found something that looked a great deal like happiness.  Sacrificing his fragile peace of mind for a chance that would almost certainly come to naught would be foolish.

But it was Bae.

To distract himself, he focused on the other issue.  "Let’s say I put my information out there in hopes that Bae contacts me.  What’s to stop my other half siblings from getting in touch?”

She blinked in surprise.  "I hadn’t thought of that."

Seeing Belle and Jefferson together had made Gold think about the possibility of having a sibling, but he would never have that kind of close relationship with some stranger just because they shared a father.   He had no desire to open himself up to contact from a group of random people just because the same man had impregnated all of their mothers.

If any of them took after Malcolm Gold, he didn’t want them anywhere near his life.

"Would that be so bad?” Belle asked.  "I know I’m biased, but I can’t imagine not having a sibling."

"We wouldn’t be siblings, just strangers who share a sperm donor.”  To call Malcolm Gold a father was an insult to real fathers everywhere.

“Maybe you’d like them,” she suggested.

“I don’t like anyone.”

“You like _me_.”

When she wrapped her arms around his neck, Gold found it hard to argue with her.  "I like you a little."

Belle laughed through her nose.  "You like me a lot.”

Then her lips were on his, soft and sweet, and he melted.  Tightening his grip on her, he hauled her closer, groaning as her thigh put pressure on his cock.  After the grueling conversation, he felt too wrung-out to be aroused, but the warm weight of her still sent a ripple of delight through him.  

She brushed fluttery kisses against his mouth, flitting away like a butterfly every time he tried to reciprocate.  Finally, Gold gave up and let her do as she pleased, allowing himself to do nothing but enjoy her enchanting little caresses.

Eventually, she moved away, dotting kisses along his jaw.  When her lips skimmed over his pulse point, the intimate sensation shot through him like an electric shock, his mouth falling open on a ragged gasp.  Immediately, her mouth found his again, her tongue sweeping over the inside of his bottom lip.

The noise he made in response was ridiculous, but Belle only smiled tenderly as she cradled his face in her hands.  "See?  You like me."

"Very much,” he agreed as he tried to regain control of his breathing.  He was aware there was more to kissing than just touching lips, but until today, he and Belle hadn’t explored any of those possibilities.  Now, he felt as though he’d been missing out.

“Is your plan to kiss me into compliance?” he tried to joke.

For an instant, Belle looked hurt before she caught the attempt at humor and rolled her eyes at him.  "Yes. Did it work?"

"No.”  

Gold had hoped she’d double her efforts, but instead Belle scooted back a little.  "Fine.  In that case, I’ll just have to dazzle you with my logic."

Slightly miffed at the lack of kissing, he challenged, "Dazzle away.”

“Realistically, if you do the DNA kit and one of your half siblings learns about you, all that’s going to happen is they’ll message you on Facebook or send you an email.”

“I don’t have a Facebook or an email address.”

Belle took a deep breath and apparently decided against strangling him.  "Well, the shop does, so we’ll use that as your contact information.   _Anyway_ , it’s not like someone is going to show up on your doorstep and announce, ‘Hey, I’m your half-sister, and I’m moving in.  What have you got to eat?’  It doesn’t work that way.  You can decide how much or how little contact you want to have.  If you’re getting along, you can try texting.  If you get a bad vibe, you can block them."

Gold had only a vague understanding of how the entire DNA kit process worked, but Belle’s explanation went a long way toward assuaging his fears.  If all of this was done over the computer, it might be manageable.  There was no law stating that he had to answer his email.  He could simply ignore anyone who wasn’t Bae.

Belle smiled at him.  "Are you sufficiently dazzled?”

With his petty objections skillfully brushed aside, he had no choice but to confide his deepest misgiving.  "How am I supposed to live with it if I try this and it doesn’t work?"

"How are you going to live with knowing you didn’t try?”  Despite her challenging words, there was nothing but sympathy in Belle’s voice.  

“You can’t unring a bell—no pun intended.  You know this is an option now.  What’s worse: trying and failing or not trying at all?  I can’t answer that for you.”  She wove her fingers through the ends of his hair and tugged gently until he met her gaze.

Looking steadily into his eyes, she promised, “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.  If you never want to talk about this again, I’ll never bring it up.  And even if you decide not to do it now, you can always change your mind later.  You don’t have to decide today or tomorrow or even this year.  You know what your options are.  It’s your decision.”

Her steadfast support lent him a courage he might not have had otherwise.  With Belle beside him, it was easier to be brave.  She would help him deal with whatever came next.  If he expected nothing to come from this, he couldn’t be disappointed, and when the universe inevitably found a way to dash his nonexistent hopes, Belle would comfort him.

It was for Bae.  Bae was worth the risk.

“I’ll do it.”


	18. Chapter 18

Gold stared at the box sitting in the middle of the kitchen island.

It was an innocuous thing, a flat rectangle of shiny white cardboard adorned with colorful oblongs.  From a distance, it looked like it should contain candy or art supplies.  It didn’t seem nearly large enough to hold all of his desperate hopes for finding his lost boy.

Although he’d managed to take the cellophane wrapping off of the container, Gold couldn’t quite bring himself to open the box.  The DNA collection process was a mystery to him, but he had no qualms about needles and test tubes.  It was the possibility that terrified him, not the process.  Somewhere in the world, Bae might one day open a box exactly like this one, and he would finally be able to look his son in the eye again.  All he had to do was open the box.

Gold’s fingers trembled as he reached for the cardboard flap, and he let his hand drop back to his side before he even grazed the box.  If he took this step, he would be plunged into a world of uncertainty, doomed to wake every morning for the rest of his life wondering if this would be the day Bae contacted him and going to bed every night in despair when it wasn’t.

He ground his teeth as he gazed at the box.  Earlier today, Belle had made an excellent point: if he did the kit, he might not find Bae, but if he didn’t do the kit, he _definitely_ wouldn’t.  Even a slim chance was better than no chance at all.  He just couldn’t bring himself to open the box.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to.  Belle had promised to come by after dinner to help him do the kit, which meant that he could put all of this into his assistant’s capable hands.   _She_ would have no fear of opening the box, and she wouldn’t laugh at him because he couldn’t do it.

Left to his own devices, he was paralyzed, but with Belle at his side, Gold could do anything.  All she had to do was get here.

The chime of the grandfather clock made him grumble.  It was half-past eight, and he’d finished his own dinner ages ago.  Either the French family took their meals late or Belle had forgotten her promise.

That wasn’t fair, Gold admonished himself as he wandered aimlessly from the kitchen to the living room.  Belle never forgot _anything,_ which was occasionally inconvenient.  If she wasn’t here, there was a reason for her absence.  Outside, snow was falling lightly as a precursor of a larger storm to follow, so perhaps she’d decided not to brave the roads.  

Or perhaps she’d attempted to make the drive only to be caught unaware by icy roads.  While he was dithering over opening a box, she could have driven her impractical little car into a ditch or a tree.  At this very moment, she could be hurt or trapped, waiting for someone to rescue her.

The thought made him nauseous, and it was all Gold could do not to grab his coat and keys to go out searching for her.  The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that it would be just his luck to have her turn up on his front porch five minutes after he left, leaving him to explain that he wasn’t home because he’d rushed off to rescue her from a danger that he’d created entirely in his own imagination.

He had enough real life problems.  He didn’t need to conjure any additional ones out of thin air.

Even though he’d mostly convinced himself that there was absolutely no reason to believe that Belle was in any danger, relief still flooded him when the doorbell rang, the surge of emotion quickly chased by a rush of irritation when he looked through the window to see her standing on the porch.  Now that he knew she was unharmed, there was nothing stopping him from being annoyed that she was late.

Gold tried to swallow his anger as he opened the door, doing his best to keep his expression calm.  "Good evening.“

"Hey.”  Belle ducked past him into the foyer before turning to him with a penitent smile.  "I’m sorry I’m late.  Grace needed help with a science project, and I lost track of time.“

"It’s fine,” he dismissed, aware of the universe’s unfairness.  He’d lost Bae before things like homework became a concern, and Belle mentioning Grace only rubbed salt in that wound.

She shook her head.  "No, it’s not.  Tonight of all nights I should have been on time.  This is a big deal to you, and I was inconsiderate.  I should have at least texted.  I’m sorry, Nachton.“

Her genuine contrition took the wind out of the sails of his righteous indignation.  Thawing, Gold allowed, "I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose.”

With a groan, Belle rubbed the place where her neck met her shoulder.  "The paper made it look so _easy_.  I figured, ‘Oh, this will take ten minutes.’  The next thing I knew, it was eight-thirty.  I didn’t even think about texting you.  I just ran for the car.“

Belatedly, Gold realized that Belle hadn’t been wearing a coat when she arrived.  Apparently, she’d been in too much of a hurry to even dress appropriately for the winter weather and the last of his ire vanished.  

"You’re lucky you didn’t catch your death.  It’s cold out,” he scolded as he glanced around for something he could wrap around her shoulders.

“You’ll warm me up.”  When Belle stepped into his arms, Gold pulled her close, his hands chafing her arms.  The burgundy skirt and lace blouse she’d worn to work were fetching but utterly inadequate against the cold.

“See?  Better already.”  She tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes shadowed.  "I really am sorry.“

"Children can disrupt even the best-laid plans.”  It was true that he would have preferred her to arrive earlier, but he couldn’t begrudge her for helping Grace.  If he wanted Belle in his life, he was going to have to get accustomed to sharing her with her family.

“It’s okay to be mad,” she assured him.  "You’d be entitled.“

It was impossible to be upset with her when she was empathizing with him.  "You’re here now.  Besides, you wouldn’t be you if you couldn’t immerse yourself in a project past the point of mundane concerns like time or common sense.”

Belle gave his hair a tug.  "I’m honestly not sure if that was a compliment or an insult."

"At the moment it’s a compliment.  However, if you decide that your next project will be burying the shop in Valentine’s Day decorations, that could change.”  There were some things even Belle couldn’t charm him into.

“I’ll accept the compliment.”  As she leaned up for a quick kiss, Gold couldn’t help but notice that she made no promises about Valentine’s Day decorations.  He would have to remember that.

By the time she stepped out of his arms, he was pleased to note that her skin felt warmer.  "Do you want to do the kit right now and get it over with or would you prefer to ease into it?“

"The sooner the better.”  The less time he had to think about this, the less time he had to potentially talk himself out of it.

As he’d predicted, Belle pounced on the box the moment he led her to the kitchen.  The lid that had been so impossible for him to open immediately yielded to her fingers.  "This looks straightforward enough.  Have you had anything to eat or drink in the last thirty minutes?"

He couldn’t begin to guess why that was relevant.  "No.”

“Good.”  With careful fingers, Belle attached a sticker to a plastic tube before handing it to him.  "Spit."

"Excuse me?”

Belle chuckled at his discomfiture.  "How else are they supposed to get your DNA?"

"I assumed they would want a blood sample.”  He certainly hadn’t anticipated having to fill a tube with his own saliva.

“I’m good at many things, but phlebotomy isn’t one of them, so it’s a good thing they don’t.  You’re supposed to fill it up to the line.”  

Not wanting her to see him do this, Gold turned his back on Belle and went to work, feeling utterly ridiculous.  Fortunately, the tube wasn’t as big as he’d first feared, and in a matter of minutes, he’d completed his assignment.  "Done."

The moment he turned back around, Belle took the tube from him and closed the top before giving it a shake.  Apparently pleased with the result, she nodded in satisfaction and consulted the instructions once again.

"That’s it,” she announced as she sealed the sample in a bag, then placed it in a small shipping box.  

“That’s it?”  The entire process had taken less than five minutes, and Gold found it somewhat anticlimactic after all of his worrying.

“All we have to do is drop it in the mail and wait.  The results are supposed to be posted in five or six weeks.”  She gave the sealed box a friendly pat.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it.  "That long?"

"It’s not magic, Nachton,” she told him patiently.  "These things take time."

He sniffed.  "I don’t believe in magic.”

Belle mimed an exaggerated display of surprise, widening her eyes and lifting her hand to her throat.  "You don’t?  What a shocking revelation.  I’m stunned— utterly _stunned_ to hear that."

"You’re very funny.”  His flat tone implied the opposite.

With a rude noise, Belle picked up the box.  "I’m hilarious.  Now, do you want to mail this or do you want me to do it?"

If given the chance, it would be far too easy for him to 'forget’ to drop the package in the mail.  The sooner this was out of his hands, the better.  "I’ll let you do it.”

Although Belle snickered at his phrasing, she didn’t object to the errand.  Instead, she tucked the box into her purse, pushing it down far enough that it was hidden from his eyes.  The moment it was out of sight, he felt himself relax a bit.

“What did you have planned for the rest of the evening?”

Her question caught him off guard.  He’d been so focused on the DNA kit that he’d given exactly no thought to what they would do once it was done.  "I thought the kit would be more time consuming."

"Why don’t we go say hi to Archimedes?” Belle suggested, coming to his rescue.

The fish swished his tail in greeting when they entered the office, then proceeded to ignore Gold completely in favor of tracking Belle’s every movement.  Gold didn’t blame his pet in the slightest for his infatuation.  His only complaint was that she didn’t coo over _him_ as enthusiastically as she did the fish.  

Maybe it was for the best that the DNA results would take so long to come back, he reflected as he watched Belle sprinkle a few flakes into the fish’s tank.  He had six weeks of breathing space to bring his hopes down to a manageable size.  Really, the smartest thing to do would be to simply forget about the kit for the time being.  There was no point in torturing himself with things that might never happen.  If a relative contacted him, he could deal with it when it happened.

It was in Gold’s nature to brood, but with Belle under his roof, he had more pleasant things to occupy his mind.  There was nothing more he could do to find Bae right now, but there was a great deal he could do with Belle.

When she asked him about his evening plans, he’d been unable to think of anything, but now several ideas were coming to mind.  Once, his ideal evening with Belle had involved wine and a discussion about literature, but his ideas had evolved as their relationship progressed.  Now, kissing played a prominent role in his perfect evening.

The problem was that he had no idea how to communicate that to Belle.  Much like the eggplant’s hidden meaning, there was probably a universal signal for 'I would like to kiss you,’ but he didn’t have the faintest idea what that signal was.  Simply grabbing her would be boorish, but he couldn’t picture himself asking permission to kiss her without looking like an utter idiot.

He was stumped.

Belle looked up from fussing over Archimedes.  "You look like you’re thinking deep thoughts.  Care to share?"

"I should have brought the mistletoe ball home and hung it up in here.”  Instead, he’d stowed it in the back room of the shop, which was just poor planning.  Mistletoe would solve everything.  In order to kiss her, all he would have to do was position himself under it and wait for her to notice.  Without it, he wasn’t sure how to proceed from talking to kissing.

Belle’s eyes went wide.  "That’s the _last_ thing I expected you to say."

Unsure of what to make of her reaction, Gold remained silent as Belle stared at him in wonder, resisting the urge to squirm.  

Finally, she straightened from bending over the fish tank and turned to face him completely.  "Is there a reason you were thinking about that?”

Bringing up kissing out of the blue was awkward, but now that they were on the subject, it was easier to voice his desires.  "I would quite like to kiss you, but I wasn’t sure how to broach the idea.  Mistletoe would solve that problem."

Belle laughed breathlessly as she stepped closer, reaching out to take hold of his tie and run it through her fingers.  Her gaze was warm as she looked at him, relieving Gold’s fears that she was laughing at him.  If she was, it was only in the fondest of ways.  

"You’re full of surprises,” she informed him, looping the tie around her hand to tug him down.  "I thought you’d be too keyed up about Bae to want to do anything tonight."

From the smile playing at her lips, it didn’t seem to be an unpleasant surprise.  "I’ve done all I can do about Bae.  The matter is out of my hands.”

“I, on the other hand, am in your hands.”  Reaching down, Belle took hold of his wrist and guided his hand to the curve of her waist to illustrate her point.

“Yes, you are.  No mistletoe required.”  Maybe that could be their own private shorthand for such activities.  If he felt the urge to kiss her, he could simply tell her he was thinking about mistletoe.  Such a euphemism felt less threatening than blatantly saying the words.

“If I’d known you were so attached to that mistletoe ball, I wouldn’t have thrown it out,” she teased.

Gold cleared his throat.  "I… may have retrieved it from the garbage.  It’s in a box in the back room."

Belle’s eyes softened.  "You kept it?  Nachton, you old romantic.”

“I’m nothing of the sort.  I simply don’t believe in throwing away objects that still have use left in them.”  There was no way she would believe that excuse.  Even _he_ didn’t believe it.

She snickered.  "Ebenezer Gold is claiming that mistletoe is useful.  The next thing you know, you’ll be singing Christmas carols."

The thought made him shudder.  He would do a great deal for Belle, but not that.  "It will be very useful if we ever need to sign a peace treaty or foretell the future.”

As he'd hoped, she smiled at the callback to her own lecture on the historical uses for mistletoe.  "Is that all it’s good for?"

"It has other uses,” he allowed, his heart stuttering in his chest when she leaned a tiny bit closer, letting him feel the warmth of her breath against his lips.  

“Such as?”

“Poisoning our enemies.”  

Belle pulled his tie a little tighter.  "Try again.“

With her so near, his mind had gone blank.  Much as he wanted to continue their repartee, the only other use for mistletoe he could think of was the obvious one.  "It’s a very good excuse to kiss you.”

To reward him, Belle brushed her lips against his.  "Oh, Nachton… You don’t need an excuse."

Although Gold hoped she would decide to prove that point, she stepped back.  "Come sit down.”

As he followed her to the couch, he was willing to swear he saw Archimedes wink at him.  Then, Belle tugged him down to sit beside her, her warm body pressed against his side, and he forgot about his pet.  

“You have my official permission to kiss me whenever you want to,” she announced.

It seemed like he should say something in response to that, but he didn’t have the slightest idea what would be appropriate.  Finally, he hazarded, “Thank you.”

Belle snickered but said nothing, continuing to stare at him expectantly.  

“You have permission to kiss me as well,” he informed her, wondering if that was what was preventing her from acting.

“I will keep that in mind,” she said gravely.

She still didn’t move, and Gold felt himself starting to perspire as he wondered what he was doing wrong.  Belle had expressed an interest in kissing, but she wasn’t making any effort to reach out to him.  

“You said you wanted to kiss me,” she prompted after what felt like several hours of staring.

“Aye.”  If they both wanted to kiss, why were they sitting here like statues?  She’d never been shy about touching him, and he’d just given her permission to do so.

Belle raised her eyebrows meaningfully, and his mind raced as he tried to figure out what she was trying to communicate.  

“You said _you_ wanted to kiss _me_ ,” she repeated, putting new emphasis on the pronouns.

“Oh!”  

Belle wasn’t kissing him because she was waiting for him to kiss _her_.  Now he understood.  

Hesitantly, he leaned closer, half-expecting her to laugh or pull away at the last moment.  That would be out of character for Belle, but this ground was still so new that his innate cynicism warned him that it was on the verge of crumbling beneath his feet.

Instead, she obligingly tilted her head back to offer him her lips, and before he realized how close he was, his mouth was on hers.

Gold sucked in a startled breath through his nose, and Belle reached up to cradle the sides of his face, caressing his cheekbones with her thumbs.  Encouraged, he allowed himself to press a little deeper, tasting her upper lip first from one angle and then from another, helpless to decide which was the most enchanting.

Somehow, his hand had found its way to her knee, but Belle made no effort to push him away.  Wondering if she had somehow failed to notice that he was touching her, he gave a gentle squeeze to get her attention, surprised when she made an approving noise in the back of her throat.

That was for him.  She’d made that noise because he touched her.

He panted against her mouth, feeling dizzy.  For a man used to maintaining a wide bubble of personal space, it was shockingly intimate to feel Belle’s hands on his face and her lips against his own.  Even in as public a place as the diner, he’d seen other couples do far more, but just this chaste contact was enough to make him feel like his soul had been stripped bare.

It was bliss to taste her lips and feel how soft and warm they were.  Helplessly, he leaned into the kiss, his entire body yearning for that warmth.  For the past fifty years, he’d been slowly freezing to death, but now Belle was beside him to thaw his frozen heart and bring him back to life.

When Belle slid her fingers into his hair to stroke the back of his neck, Gold made a hungry noise and tightened his grip on her knee.  Horrified and humiliated by his loss of control, he immediately removed his hand from her leg, only for her to reach down and firmly return it to its previous position.

Even he couldn’t misread that signal, so he let his embarrassment fade away.  If Belle approved of his actions, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.  

Although Gold thought he would never tire of exploring Belle’s lips, a faint sense of discontent started to niggle at him.  Earlier, Belle had allowed her tongue to slip into his mouth for only an instant, and the memory alone was enough to make him shiver.  He had no idea how to do such a thing or even know if she would welcome such an advance, but he was suddenly desperate to repeat her experiment.

Unsure of how to indicate his interest in going beyond her lips, Gold tried a different tactic and parted his own lips slightly, hoping that she would understand his silent invitation.  Although he was accustomed to being in a position of authority, in this matter he was much more comfortable following Belle’s lead.

There was a moment of hesitation, then she slid her tongue over the inside of his bottom lip just as she had earlier that day.  Since he knew what to expect now, Gold assumed that the sensation would be less intense, but the intimate sweep of her tongue sent a jolt of electricity through him that grounded itself in the base of his cock.

Taking shallow breaths through his nose in an effort to curb his excitement, he opened his mouth a little wider, silently begging for more.  Slowly, as though she expected him to protest, Belle advanced again, her tongue stroking lightly against his.

A bizarre growling noise filled the room, and Gold was dimly aware that it was coming from him.  He was also aware that he was digging his fingers into Belle’s knee in a way that had to be uncomfortable, but he couldn’t loosen his grip.  Every fiber of his body was tense and straining to be closer to her, and he couldn’t allow even an atom’s width of distance between them.

Soothing strokes against the back of his neck grounded him until he was able to unclench just a little.  Only then did Belle attempt another stroke, this time swirling her tongue around his in blatant invitation.  

He didn’t know what to do, but she showed him.  With gentle flicks of her tongue, she demonstrated how he could answer her, sighing against his mouth when he tentatively attempted to return the kiss.  

At first, he dared do no more than flutter his tongue against hers, but she refused to let his shyness persist.  She retreated slowly, indicating with darting little caresses that she wanted him to follow her.  Unable to do anything but give her what she wanted, Gold complied, allowing his tongue to breach the cavern of her mouth for the first time.

Her lips were delicious, but this was something else entirely.  He was surrounded by Belle, her warmth and sweetness overwhelming his senses.  Unable to get close enough, he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as his other hand abandoned her knee in favor of her hip.  She felt incredible pressed against him, and she managed to make it better yet when her hand slipped under his shirt collar to pull him deeper into the kiss.

All of his thoughts and doubts fled his mind.  For the first time in his life, he didn’t _need_ to think.  All he needed to do was act and feel.  Every time he hesitated, Belle came to his rescue, showing him what to do, and he followed her blindly, rewarded when every new touch brought with it a flood of ecstasy.

He was breathing heavily, sweat trickling down his furrowed brow as he plunged his tongue deeper before retreating, inviting her to plunder him in return.  From there, he lost track of who was doing what as their tongues tangled, dancing together in a way he’d never imagined possible.

Eventually, after what might have been hours, Belle’s strokes became more shallow until the kiss ended as slowly as it had begun.  She leaned her forehead against his, staying close as Gold’s chest heaved, sobs threatening to tear themselves out of his throat.  His cock was hard as a rock, but he didn’t feel particularly aroused.  He was too overwhelmed to feel _anything_.  

“Darling Nachton,” Belle crooned as she stroked his hair.  

“Belle,” he rasped.

He couldn’t say anything more, but she seemed to understand.  A moment later, he was in her arms, Belle murmuring sweet words of comfort as he trembled.

His body felt raw, like he’d been flayed but in the most wonderful way possible.  He was more vulnerable than he’d ever been in his life, but Belle was holding him, and there was no distance between them.  

That closeness allowed him to breathe properly again, his world righting itself.  "I’m all right."

She didn’t release him.  "Are you?”

Now that he felt calmer, he could hear the worry in her voice.  "Oh yes."

Pulling back, he cupped her chin so he could look into her face.  "I’ve never been better.”

“You’re okay with what we just did?” she pressed, her keen eyes searching his expression for any hint of deceit.

“More than okay.  That was the best moment of my life.”  It was a soppy thing to say, but he couldn’t bear to think that Belle might not realize how wonderful she’d made him feel.  He could only hope he’d had one-tenth of that effect on her.

At his words, she relaxed, her smile returning.  "I’m glad.  And I’ll have you know that I was right."

"Oh?”  She tended to be right about everything, even if he’d never admit it.

She nodded, her smile turning smug.  "You’re a fast learner."

His face heated when he caught her meaning, and Belle chuckled as she leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth.  "I hate to leave, but I should get home before the roads get bad.”

The reminder of the weather brought him back to reality.  A glance out the window revealed that the promised storm had materialized.  "They’re already bad."

There was only one thing to do.  "Stay here tonight.”

To his relief, she didn’t argue.  "That’s probably a good idea.  I already know how comfy your couch is."

In his tank, Archimedes turned a slow barrel roll, adding his own agreement to the plan.  

"Can I borrow something to sleep in?  I’m not as prepared this time.”  Her wry smile reminded him of how thoroughly he’d managed to misunderstand the meaning of her overnight bag on New Year’s Eve.

“Of course.  Come with me.”  Belle was familiar enough with the layout of the house not to need him to guide her by the hand, but Gold captured her fingers the moment she stood up anyway for the simple pleasure of feeling her skin against his.

It wasn’t until they reached his bedroom that he realized how intimate the act of sharing clothing would be.  Pajamas that had touched his bare skin were about to touch hers.  

His hands were clumsy as he pawed through a dresser drawer until he unearthed a set of blue cotton pajamas that he’d worn in his younger days when his frame had been more gaunt.  He’d never been a large man, but even so, Belle was certain to drown in the excess fabric.

His mouth went dry at the thought, and he did his best to stifle it as he escorted her into the bathroom and found an unopened toothbrush for her.  He felt bizarrely tempted to have her use his toothbrush, but she would probably find that idea disgusting.  Since he normally cared about things like germs, Gold wasn’t certain why it appealed to him.

Once the door was shut behind her, he hastened to change into his own pajamas, conscious that Belle was only a few feet away.  At any moment, she might think of something she needed and poke her head out of the bathroom to see him standing naked before her.

He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed to finish changing before she emerged.  As her impromptu host, he should busy himself with preparing the office couch for her, but instead, he loitered in the bedroom, turning down his own bed.

As he did so, Gold had a realization: he didn’t want Belle to sleep on the couch.  He wanted her here, with him.

He was still frowning over that thought when Belle stepped out of the bathroom, her face shiny and her hair pulled back in a loose braid.  She’d rolled up the cuffs of the pajama pants, but they still dragged on the floor, and the oversized top made her look almost childlike.

Her wicked smile at the sight of him belied that impression.  "Very nice."

Remembering that she’d once teased him about modeling his pajamas for her, Gold turned so she could see him from every angle, his stomach fluttering.  Belle was in his bedroom, both of them dressed for sleep, and this was a situation he’d never even allowed himself to think about for fear that he wouldn’t be able to _stop_ thinking about it.

"You okay?” she asked, padding closer.

Gold cleared his throat, not sure if he was overstepping.  "It occurs to me that my bed is big enough for two."

Belle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.  "Are you sure?”

He was sure of only one thing so he decided to voice it.  If she thought he was pathetic, so be it.  "I would very much like to sleep beside you."

With another step, she was close enough to reach up to adjust the collar of his pajama top.  "I’d like that too.”

For some reason, her admission made him want to cry.  Tears pricking at his eyes, he caught her hand in his own and lifted it to his lips.  "All right then."

He held his breath as he led her over to the bed, waiting until she’d gotten settled beneath the covers before joining her.  Since he didn’t know how close he was supposed to be, he was careful to lie in the exact middle of his half of the bed, the back of his head resting squarely on the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Are you comfortable?”

“No.”

Her flat response made him wince.  A moment later, Belle scooted closer, her side pressing against his as she reached down to take his hand.  " _Now_ I’m comfortable.“

Gold exhaled, the tension leaving his muscles.  He always worried too much when it came to Belle.

Reaching out, he switched off the lamp, then adjusted a little so their bodies were lightly pressed together from shoulder to knee.

"Much better,” he agreed, turning his head to gaze at her in the moonlight, the sight of her looking at him across the pillow making him catch his breath.

Smiling, Belle leaned in to brush a kiss against his lips.  "Good night, Nachton."

There was no way he was ever going to fall asleep, but Gold didn’t want to.  He wanted to spend the entire night just looking at her, memorizing the incredible sight of her asleep in his bed.

"Good night, Belle.”


	19. Chapter 19

With a luxurious sigh, Gold nestled deeper into his pillow.  In the soft, cottony place between sleep and waking, he was aware enough to know that he’d never been so warm and comfortable before, even if he couldn’t quite remember why his bed felt so glorious.

As he woke a little more, a smile twitched at his lips as memories of the previous evening returned to him.  His bed had never been so comfortable before because it had never had Belle in it before.  He could feel their lower legs touching beneath the sheets and hear the steady rush of her breath, a sound that was more beautiful than music.  Although he’d planned to remain awake for the entire night, at some point he’d closed his eyes to better focus on deciphering the words she mumbled in her sleep in between her charming little snuffling noises, and he’d apparently dozed off for a few minutes.

Much as he’d enjoyed watching her sleep, it was an equal pleasure to just lie beside her and soak in her presence.  Having never shared a bed with anyone before, Gold had expected the process to be rather utilitarian.  Sharing a bed was simple conservation of space and resources.  He hadn’t realized how comforting it would be to have a cherished bedmate within easy reach, Belle’s warm presence reminding him that he was no longer alone in the universe.

For the simple pleasure of touching her, he reached out to brush his hand against hers beneath the covers, stroking his fingertips over her knuckles.  Her skin felt impossibly soft, tempting him to twine their fingers together.  Heroically, he resisted the urge so as not to disturb her slumber.

“Good morning.”

At her greeting, his eyes flew open to find Belle gazing at him across the pillow, her blue eyes amused.  Gold blinked rapidly, surprised to find light creeping in around the edges of his drapes.  Instead of dozing, he’d clearly fallen asleep, and now morning had come.

He cursed himself as Belle studied him.  Gold was keenly aware that he wasn’t an attractive man, and he was never at his best in the morning.  He’d intended to slip off into the bathroom before Belle woke to sort out the worst of the damage by shaving and brushing his hair and teeth, but she’d caught him flat-footed yet again.

She was making a habit of that.

Her eyes were bright, her face shiny with sleep.  A few wisps of hair had escaped from her braid to fluff around her face, creating an enchanting picture.  In contrast, he could only imagine how dreadful he looked with his crusted eyes and disheveled hair.  He never should have allowed himself to fall asleep.

“I’m a mess.”

Gold didn’t realize he’d said the words out loud until Belle giggled.  Reaching out, she traced one fingertip over his jaw to feel his whiskers.  "I don’t know.  I might like the scruffy look on you.  It makes you look like a dashing rake."

Her teasing reassured him that she wasn’t planning to hold his unkempt state against him.  "I meant to get up and shave before you woke.  Attempt to make myself handsome for you.”

His mouth twisted as he realized how much he’d inadvertently revealed with that statement, and he tried to turn it into a self-deprecating joke.  "Or as close to handsome as I can get."

"I find you quite handsome,” Belle informed him, and for once, there was no humor in her voice.

For some reason, her words made him feel like crying, so he did his best to play them off.  "I’m aging like a fine wine."

"Stop.”  She scooted closer until their heads occupied the same pillow and hooked her leg around his knee.  

“We’ve been over this.  You’re not _that_ much older, and even if you were, it doesn’t matter.  You look good to me, Nachton.  If you didn’t, I wouldn’t be in bed with you.  Now quit putting yourself down and learn how to take a damn compliment.”

“I don’t get many of those.”  Despite his best efforts, it was hard to argue with logic like Belle’s.  Her presence in his bed was a big enough clue that she was attracted to him that even he couldn’t miss it.

Her lips crooked into a smile.  "Then let’s give you some practice."

Before he could attempt to guess what she meant, Belle demonstrated by reaching up to run her fingers through his shaggy hair.  "Your hair is incredibly soft.”

“With a distinguished hint of gray.”  There was more than a _hint_ of gray in his hair, but pointing that out would probably only irritate Belle.

She flicked his nose hard enough to make him blink.  "The correct response is ‘thank you.’  Try again."

"Thank you,” he grumbled, feeling ridiculous.  

“You suck at this.  Let’s try again.”  Belle snuggled closer yet until they were almost nose-to-nose.  "You have amazing eyes, like melting chocolate."

There was no eye color less impressive than brown, but Gold appreciated her effort to find something about his appearance worth complimenting.  "Thank you.”

“Better,” she approved.

With only a tiny movement, she was able to brush her lips against his.  "Your lips are so soft."

Gold knew what she wanted him to say in response, but his tongue refused to shape the words.  If Belle wanted to compliment him, he would enjoy the novelty, but thanking her for her sentiments felt too much like he was agreeing with her.  It was one thing for her to say nice things about him, but it was the height of arrogance for him to agree with her.

When she prodded him in the side, he mumbled, "Yes, well…”

Belle’s eyes narrowed at the meaningless words, but she didn’t flick his nose to punish him again.  No doubt, she had something worse in mind, perhaps a spray bottle or a rolled up newspaper like he was a misbehaving pet.

With a challenging look, she moved her leg from his knee to his upper thigh and used it to pull herself closer, plastering their bodies together.  "You have a fantastic ass."

At that, Gold nearly swallowed his tongue.  It wasn’t the first time Belle had hinted that she approved of his backside, but the words weren’t any easier to internalize the second time around.  Considering his usual attire, he wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten a good enough look to form an opinion.

Belatedly, he realized that he hadn’t responded to her latest compliment, and from the look on Belle’s face, she was well aware of his lapse and planning to make him pay for it.

A frisson of fear went through him when she bared her teeth in a wolfish smile.  "You have a very attractive face.  I’m looking forward to seeing it between my thighs.”

A strangled, high-pitched noise escaped his mouth as his cock surged at the promise implicit in her words.  She had once teasingly offered him oral sex, and now she was making it clear that she expected him to please her as well.  She wanted his face between her thighs.

When he tried to pull away so she wouldn’t feel his excitement, Belle tightened her grip on him, holding him in place as he hardened against her stomach.  "Say thank you," she said sweetly.

"Thank… you…” he ground out through gritted teeth as he tried to will his body to relax.  He was fully erect, and she hadn’t even _touched_ him.  Belle was going to laugh herself sick at his callow response.

Confounding his effort, Belle hummed a little as she rubbed herself against him.  "I love how hard you get… how eager you are.  You have a fantastic cock."

With a low wail, Gold surged forward, rolling Belle onto her back as he blanketed her with his body.  He was throbbing against her stomach, ready to explode, and he buried his face against her throat as he sought desperately to control himself.  His hips were twitching, the urge to thrust almost overwhelming.  More than he wanted his next breath, he wanted to rub himself against her until he found completion with her scent in his nostrils and the taste of her skin on his tongue.

He fisted his hands in the sheets, dimly aware that Belle was stroking his back.  He’d attacked her, and she was still trying to soothe him.  She deserved better than for him to rut against her belly like a wild animal.  He was better than this.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Gold managed to wrest his body into submission.  Only then did he dare move, retreating to the far side of the bed to give Belle some space.  "I’m sorry.”

She shook her head.  "No, _I’m_ sorry.  I shouldn’t have worked you up like that.  You’re not ready, and it wasn’t fair."

As far as Gold was concerned, the problem was that he was a little _too_ ready.  "You have nothing to be sorry for.  I simply lost control of myself.  I apologize for being so… forward.”

His apology was woefully inadequate, but Gold couldn’t find a polite way to express his regret for rutting against her like a beast.

Surprise flickered across Belle’s face, followed by what looked like interest.  "Nachton, you can be forward with me whenever you want.  I very much enjoyed that.  I was just worried that I pushed you too far and upset you.“

Since there was no possible way Belle could have found any pleasure in his actions, it was obvious that she was being kind, but he felt raw enough to accept her words at face value.  However, he couldn’t allow her to think that she’d done anything wrong.  "Nothing could be further from the truth.  I regret my uncivilized behavior, but I found great pleasure in your words.”

Since he’d nearly orgasmed in her arms, it had to be painfully obvious just how _much_ pleasure he’d taken in Belle’s compliments, but she brightened as though she’d been in doubt.  

With a wicked smile, she took hold of the front of his pajama top to pull him closer.  "If that’s how you’re going to react when I tease you, maybe I should do it more often."

Gold’s breath caught.  After experiencing his reaction, Belle’s inclination wasn’t to watch her words more carefully but to tease him even more.  Perhaps she wasn’t just being kind when she told him she enjoyed his animalistic behavior.  "I might like that.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” she asked, her voice wondering.  "Oh, Nachton, you’re a dream."

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve that label, but he wasn’t about to argue.

"What happens when you get turned on like that when you’re alone in bed?” Belle asked, her voice smoky.  "Do you ever touch yourself?"

"O–occasionally,” he managed, feeling perspiration breaking out along his hairline.  This wasn’t a topic for mixed company, but _Belle_ had been the one to bring it up.  He was starting to think that her sensibilities were sturdier than his were.

She made an interested noise.  "Tell me more.  Do you ever think about me?"

"Never.”

From the way she flinched back, Gold could tell that she didn’t believe him.  Hoping to mitigate the damage, he hastened to defend himself.  "I swear I’m telling the truth.  I would never do that, Belle.  I admit that I’ve been tempted, but I would _never_."

Apparently, she could hear the truth in his words because the tension leeched from her body.  "Why not?”

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her tone, but if this was a test, he was determined to pass.  "I respect you far too much to demean you in such a way.  You’re not an object to be used for my pleasure."

"Ah.”  Her eyelashes fluttered.  "I understand."

Her next words caught him off guard.  "Would it surprise you to hear that I would be flattered if you touched yourself to thoughts of me?”

For a long moment, Gold found himself unable to parse her question.  Once, he’d wondered if Belle might approve of him taking himself in hand while he dreamed about her, but he’d never expected her to actually voice support for his whimsical musings.  "I would be very surprised."

"Well, get over it.”  Her eyes sparkled.  "You have my full permission to think about me while you touch yourself.  Actually, I’ll be quite offended if you _don’t_."

"I certainly don’t want that,” Gold said vaguely, his head spinning.  Belle wouldn’t be offended if he masturbated to thoughts of her.  She _wanted_ him to think about her while he touched himself.  

“There’s one condition though,” she cautioned.

“Oh?”

The way she flicked her tongue over her front teeth made his skin feel tight.  "Someday, you have to let me watch you while you do it."

"Oh god.”  He slammed his eyes closed as his cock twitched again, equal amounts of excitement and terror flooding his body.  Excited terror?  Terrified excitement?  What was _happening_ to him?

“Would you like that?” she asked softly.

“I… don’t know.”  He couldn’t imagine doing something so private in front of Belle, but for some reason, Gold found himself craving the possibility.  

“Would you like to watch _me_ do that?”

Just the suggestion was enough to set him aflame.  Gold writhed as his body responded, rolling onto his back as he covered his face with his hands to block out all stimulus.  Even the sight of his bedroom ceiling was more input than his mind could handle at the moment without shorting out.

“Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.”  

Eventually, he realized he was chanting the obscenity like a mantra and forced himself to stop.  Shame at using such a foul word in front of Belle overrode his excitement, allowing him to regain control of himself.  "Please forgive my language."

When he dared to open his eyes, Belle was smirking at him.  "I’ll take that as a 'yes’.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” he accused, not entirely sure if he meant the words seriously or not.

“Just a little,” she agreed.

There seemed to be a joke there that she was inviting him to share, but Gold felt too frazzled to figure it out.  Instead, he concentrated on breathing until he felt less like he was poised on the edge of a cliff.

Belle nibbled on her bottom lip.  "Just to clarify… Would you be offended if I thought about you while I touched myself?"

There was no hint that she was trying to tease him, but his body did its best to respond anyway.  He hadn’t been this randy since he was fifteen years old.  

Taking a deep breath, Gold forced himself to concentrate on her question.  "Not at all.  Quite… the opposite.”

“Okay.”  With a smile, Belle reached out to squeeze his hand.

She wasn’t telling him that she did think about him while she pleasured herself, but that definitely seemed to be implied by her question.  For the sake of his sanity, it was probably better that she’d chosen to be indirect about the matter.  If she came right out and said that she had sexual fantasies about him, he might well implode.

They lay together in silence, gazing at each other across the pillow.  For no reason that he could fathom, Gold found himself smiling helplessly at Belle, an expression that she returned.  He should probably be embarrassed by how much of himself he’d revealed this morning, but he felt nothing of the kind.  On the contrary, for the first time in his life, Gold didn’t have a care in the world.  

“I wonder how the roads are,” Belle mused, her voice idle.

From the quality of light creeping in around the drapes, it was clear that it had stopped snowing sometime in the night.  His position in town meant that his was one of the first houses to be plowed out, but the rest of Storybrooke would soon follow suit.  The mayor, Mary Margaret Nolan, was exacting about snow removal, a personality quirk that had earned her the nickname of Snow White.  Once, he’d appreciated her efficient management, but now he wished she was a bit less competent.

“Dreadful, I’m sure.”  If the roads were still bad, there was no point in them getting out of bed.

“It figures.  I spend hours helping Grace with a project only for school to be canceled.”  Belle’s smile turned rueful.

“She’ll have to turn it in sooner or later.  Now it’s done.”  With the drama of the previous evening behind him, Gold felt sanguine enough to wonder if he might enjoy helping the girl with her schoolwork.  Having something specific to do might make it easier for him to talk to Belle’s niece.

“If I don’t get up soon, I’ll be late for work,” Belle teased.

Gold chuckled.  "I’ll put in a good word for you with your employer."

"Think he’ll dock my paycheck if I don’t come in?”

“I’m sure he’ll find it in his heart to be generous.”

Belle raised an eyebrow.  "Generous enough to make me breakfast?"

Now that she mentioned it, he was starting to feel a bit hungry too, but there was no need to make it easy for her.  "I already gave up my bed and my pajamas.  Shouldn’t you be showing your appreciation by cooking for me?”

Belle nudged him with her foot.  "Oh yes, you made a noble sacrifice by letting me share your bed.  I’m not sure if rubbery eggs will be a sufficient offering of gratitude.“  

"I thought you once promised me French toast.”  It was all he could do not to laugh at the face she pulled when he deliberately misremembered her words.

“No, I promised you toast _made_ by a French.  You, on the other hand, promised me a cooking lesson.”

If he recalled correctly, that had been entirely Belle’s idea, but his stomach was starting to grumble at the talk of food.  "I suppose I did."

Belle leaned in for a quick kiss, then climbed out of bed.  As Gold set to work untangling himself from the covers, he saw her pick up the blouse she’d worn the previous day before dropping it back onto the chair.  "I think it’s a 'stay in your pjs’ kind of day.”

“I quite agree.”  Belle had never looked more beautiful than she did wearing his pajamas.

“And you’re not allowed to shave,” she continued.

Her command sent a wave of confused pleasure through him.  When she told him that she liked his scruffy jaw, he’d assumed she was merely being polite, but perhaps he’d been wrong.  If Belle liked him with facial hair, he might never shave again.

By the time they made it downstairs, it was clear that the snow had stopped hours ago and the streets and his driveway had been plowed clean.  The snow was already half-melted off of Belle’s car, but she showed no interest in leaving.  There was no practical reason they couldn’t open the shop today, but if given the choice between going to work and lounging around with Belle in his pajamas, the decision was easy.  

There were times that Gold very much enjoyed being his own boss.

“French toast is simple,” he informed Belle as he gathered the necessary ingredients.

“If you say so.”  Despite her doubtful expression, her hands were competent as she followed his directions to measure the cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar into a small bowl.

Melting the butter also proved to be no issue once he convinced her that it wasn’t absolutely necessary to turn the gas up as high as it would go.  Gold thought the lesson was going quite well until the time came to break the eggs.

Belle gave the first one an enthusiastic whack against the countertop, scooping up the goopy mess in her bare hand before transferring it to the shallow bowl he’d given her for the purpose.  Despite her best efforts, more than one bit of shell snuck into the bowl with the egg, and he suddenly realized why she had trouble with cooking.

“You’re very impatient.”  Since her egg was unsalvageable, he dumped it down the sink and rinsed out the bowl.

Belle gave him a wry look.  "You’re only now realizing that?"

"Sometimes slower is better,” he admonished as he picked up an egg and gave it a firm tap.  With careful hands, he tugged the shell apart so that the egg plopped into the bowl, the yolk unbroken and the white unmarred by shell.

“I like a man who takes his time,” Belle purred.

Gold was reasonably sure she wasn’t talking about cooking.

His hands shook as he offered her another egg.  "Try again.  Be gentle."

"Gentle can be nice too,” she agreed.  Proving her point, her second attempt was more successful.

Once she’d finished breaking the eggs, Gold fished out the tiny fragments of shell that had slipped in before showing her how to add the milk, vanilla, and spices.  

“It smells good.”  Belle seemed surprised.

“See?  You can cook.”  With efficient movements, he dipped a slice of bread in the mixture before transferring it to the pan to fry.  Demonstration complete, he gestured for Belle to copy his actions.

The egg mixture sloshed in its bowl as Belle plunged the bread into it.  Once it was coated, she dropped it into the pan from a foot of height, sending the butter splattering over the cooktop.

Gold closed his eyes.  "Didn’t we just talk about being gentle?"

"I didn’t want to burn myself,” she explained.

He couldn’t help but scold her.  "You’re more likely to burn yourself splashing melted butter around than you are if you put the bread in carefully."

Stepping behind her, he put his hands over hers to guide her movements.  "Like this.”

Her hair tickled his face as they dipped the bread and transferred it to the pan, and Gold was so distracted by the heady scent that he nearly dipped his own hand into the sizzling butter.  Even when she wasn’t doing anything, Belle was a menace.

“How can you tell when they’re done?” Belle asked curiously.

“They’re done when they’re golden brown.  We’ll give them a couple of minutes, then check.”  

Despite a tendency to fling things around, Belle managed to flip the toast before it burned, although her definition of golden brown was a little darker than his own.  Fortunately, once the French toast had been doused with maple syrup, the minor flaw was unnoticeable, and Belle seemed enchanted with her accomplishment.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever cooked.”  She spent as much time admiring her breakfast as she did eating it, even going so far as to snap a picture of her triumph.

“Next time we’ll try something more complicated.”  Making French toast didn’t usually make a mess of his countertops, but he’d never found more pleasure in cooking than he found in doing it with Belle.

“Just let me have my moment.  Let’s pretend that French toast is the pinnacle of cuisine.”  Her eyes danced with amusement as she made her request.

“Of course it is.  Soufflés and Beef Wellington are child’s play in comparison to French toast.”  Given Belle’s current skill set, soufflés were still a distant goal, but he was confident that she would master them some day.  He rather thought that Belle could master flying if she set her mind to it.  Cooking would be simple.

“What should we do now?” he asked as he carried their dirty dishes to the sink.

Belle glanced out the window at the cleared driveway.  "There’s no reason we can’t open the shop."

Gold swallowed a sigh.  Spending the entire day like this had probably been too much to hope for.  "No, there isn’t.”

“Or…”  Belle gave him a mischievous look.  "We could curl up together on the couch in your office and appreciate the view and your library."

She was no more eager to open the shop than he was, Gold realized with relief.  "I much prefer your second idea.”

“Me too.  Besides, Archimedes will be lonely if we leave him alone all day.”  

“We need to stay here and keep him company,” he agreed, willing to latch onto any excuse to stay here with Belle.

“So, we’re in agreement?  Snuggling on the couch beats going to work?”  Belle held her hand out to him.

With a light heart, Gold clasped it.  "I can’t think of a better way to spend the day."


	20. Chapter 20

“Must you?” Gold groused as he watched Belle take advantage of the mid-afternoon lull to prowl the shop, looking for the right place to hang her latest atrocity: a heart-shaped red wreath festooned with vintage Valentine’s Day cards and foil hearts.

“If we put up a visible reminder that Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, maybe everyone won’t wait until the thirteenth to buy their gifts,” she said, her voice bright with optimism.

“They’ll wait,” Gold predicted darkly.  In his experience, the thirteenth of February was almost as dreadful as Christmas Eve, and the fourteenth was worse.  Although one might think that people would learn their lesson from the stress of trying to buy their Christmas presents at the last possible moment and resolve to get an earlier start on the next holiday, one would be wrong.  No one in Storybrooke ever learned anything.

Belle would learn that lesson for herself soon enough.  Someday, just for his own amusement, he was going to refuse to open the shop on Valentine’s Day and sit back to watch the fireworks.  Knowing the people of this town, there would be rioting in the streets by noon.

Next year, Belle might let him get away with it, but this year was probably a lost cause.  His only consolation was that she’d heeded his warning about Valentine’s Day decorations.  He hadn’t seen a naked cupid or a single fleck of glitter yet.

“You know, if I didn’t love holidays, working retail might make me hate them.”  Belle hung the wreath in the exact center of an antique mirror, doubling its effect, and he watched her reflection frown in concentration as she fiddled with it.

“By the time you get to be my age, you’ll learn to despise them as much as I do.”  Then again, he’d actually enjoyed Halloween and New Year’s Eve this year, so perhaps the opposite would hold true.

Gold’s mouth twisted into a wry smile as he wondered if this was some kind of Stockholm Syndrome.  Belle would be his benevolent captor until she successfully brainwashed him into enjoying the holidays.

She made a rude noise at the suggestion.  "Oh please.  You love holidays."

She wasn’t even trying to be subtle about her manipulation, but he refused to make it easy for her.  "I’ll thank you not to spread lies about me.”

Finally satisfied with the wreath’s placement, Belle turned from the mirror to face him.  "You love to grouch and complain.  Holidays provide you with an endless series of things to grouch and complain about.  Ergo, you love holidays."

"Your logic is impeccable,” he sniffed, trying not to let his amusement show.  Even though she was doing him a disservice— he didn’t grouch _that_ much— he couldn’t help but be charmed by the leaps she’d made to arrive at her preposterous conclusion.

“That means you know I’m right, but you don’t want to admit it.”  

Gold watched with resignation as Belle filled a glass jar with pink and red candy before returning to her bag of tricks to retrieve a dozen wooden conversation hearts.  "Help me find places for these."

"Of course.”  Plucking the pile from her hand, he deposited the hearts back in the bag.  "Done."

"Have you ever considered _not_ being a miserable grouch?”  Belle elbowed him out of the way to reclaim her hearts, neatly sidestepping when he tried to steal them away.

“Now, who’s complaining?” he pointed out, hiding a smile at her aggrieved look.

“You’re lucky you’re cute because you can be a royal pain in the ass.”  Belle slapped a conversation heart reading _Kiss Me_ into his hand.

Delighted by her invitation, Gold lowered his head.  "If you insist."

"Wha—?”  Belle opened her mouth to speak at the same instant his lips collided with hers.  

After a flurry of confusion, Gold found his tongue in her mouth and froze.  He’d never been brave enough to initiate this kind of kiss, but now that he was in the middle of it, he needed to do _something_.  Hesitantly, he swirled his tongue around the tip of hers, careful not to delve too deeply into her mouth, and when Belle curled her free hand around the back of his neck, it felt like applause.

A moment later, she pulled back.  "Oh no, you’re not going to seduce your way out of helping.  Find a place to display that heart and _maybe_ I’ll consider fooling around."

Eyes sparkling with mischief, Belle gave him a quick tap on the ass.  "Get moving.”

Her apparent preoccupation with his backside made Gold feel giddy.  When he saw Malcolm Gold grab that part of a woman’s anatomy, he'd been mortified by his father’s crass behavior, but when Belle did it to him, there was nothing demeaning in the action.  Instead, it was bizarrely flattering.  He would never dare do it to her, of course, but it would please him greatly if she decided to make a habit of it.

He kept his back to her to hide his silly smile while he found a place for the _Kiss Me_ heart on the shelf behind the counter.  The mistletoe ball was starting to fade, but this wooden heart would make an excellent replacement.

“It’s a waste of time to put up decorations that we’re just going to take down again in a matter of weeks,” he reminded her for the sheer pleasure of arguing.

“There’s more to life than efficiency, Nachton.  It’s _fun_ to celebrate.  You should try it sometime.  You might like it.”  She’d placed five hearts in the time it had taken him to display one.

“Valentine’s Day isn’t a real holiday.  It’s a corporate scam designed to make money for florists, chocolatiers, and jewelers.”  Half the people he sold gifts to didn’t even seem to _like_ their significant others.

Belle snorted.  "I don’t know about you, but I’d rather get presents than be whipped with a piece of bloody goat hide."

That was a sentence he hadn’t expected to hear today.  Gold blinked at her non sequitur.  "Pardon me?”

“Valentine’s Day started as a pagan festival in ancient Rome.  They sacrificed a goat, then skinned it and whipped young women with strips of the hide to make them more fertile.”  Belle shrugged.  "Presents are better."

At least she wasn’t going to make him participate in _that_ particular ritual.  "I withdraw my objection to the commercialization of the day.”

“Good.  Because I will be getting you a Valentine’s Day present.”  Belle’s hips swayed as she crossed the shop’s floor toward him, distracting him from her words.

When he finally processed her announcement, Gold swallowed hard.  He should have seen this coming.  Belle loved holidays.  Of course she would buy her boyfriend a Valentine’s Day present and assume that he would do the same for her.

“And I suppose that means you’ll expect one in return.”  Gold’s acerbic tone neatly covered his panic.  How was he supposed to know what sort of gift Belle would like?  He’d given her the Oz books for Christmas, but she’d picked those out herself.

She placed her hands on the counter and leaned closer to him.  "I don’t care if you get me a present or not.  But I know you well enough to know that you’ll get weird if I get something for you when you don’t have something for me, so consider yourself warned."

"What are you getting me?”  If nothing else, learning what her gift to him would be would give him an idea of the scale expected of him.

Belle rolled her eyes.  "It won’t be a surprise if I tell you."

"A hint?”  If she didn’t throw him some kind of lifeline, Valentine’s Day was likely to be a disaster.

Gold suddenly had more sympathy for all of the befuddled men he’d helped to select gifts.

“You’ll see what it is when you open it.”  Belle leaned across the counter to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t drive yourself crazy.  I’ll like whatever you give me— a rose, a box of those chocolates you gave Grace at Halloween…  It doesn’t have to be anything spectacular.  I’m not expecting fireworks.”  She gave his hand a reassuring pat.

Instead of comforting him, her words stung his pride.  Did she think him incapable of giving her an impressive gift?  She knew that money was no object, so it had to be his creativity that she doubted.  

Miffed, Gold silently vowed to surpass her low expectations of him.  If it cost him every penny he had, he was going to give Belle a Valentine’s Day present that she would remember for the rest of her life.  She would be completely overwhelmed when she unwrapped her gift to see that he’d found the perfect thing.

The problem was that he didn’t have the slightest idea what the perfect thing might be, and he only had two weeks to figure it out.

He might be in trouble.

Under the pretense of rearranging the shelves, Gold spent the next hour stalking through the shop, considering and dismissing every trinket under his roof.  While there were numerous things here that Belle might like, she’d seen all of them before, and familiarity bred contempt.  Worse, giving her something from his own stock would signify a lack of effort on his part.  

He was still pondering the issue when the bell over the door chimed.  Gold looked up to see Grace enter the shop and bade her welcome with what he hoped was a believable smile as he evaluated her potential as an ally.  While the little girl might have some insight into what Belle would want for a gift, he would prefer to do this alone if possible.  Accepting help from an eight year old would be only slightly less embarrassing than being empty-handed on Valentine’s Day.

To his surprise, Grace paused only long enough to greet Belle before she approached him, her small face nervous.  "Hi, Mr. Gold."

"Hello, Grace.”  

His voice was gentle, his expression pleasant, but Belle’s niece still looked at him like a deer caught in headlights.  

“How was school today?” he asked, searching for a topic that would put her at ease.

When Grace cast a desperate look at her aunt, Belle nodded encouragement.  "Go ahead."

Apparently the girl’s visit to the shop was a surprise only to him.  Briefly, Gold wished Belle had warned him of her niece’s impending arrival and given him a hint as to what he was supposed to do.  

"I have to interview someone in the community.”  Grace said the words in a rush, stumbling a little, before looking up at him in mute appeal.

Bewildered, Gold nodded before he realized what she was asking him.  Her teacher had assigned her the project of interviewing a member of the community, and Grace wanted to use him as her subject.  It was quite flattering that she’d singled him out.  "Of course."

"Why don’t you come to our house for dinner?” Belle suggested.

“I would like that.”  

Grace let out a noisy sigh of relief, making him wonder if the little girl had expected him to refuse her request.  "Can I see Arcameeky?"

Her childish pronunciation of Archimedes’s name made him smile.  "He lives at my house now, but I have some new pictures of him.”

Belle smiled at him over Grace’s head as he handed his phone to the child.  "Perhaps you and your aunt can come to my house some evening so you can visit him."

"Okay.”  Whatever fear had gripped Grace earlier seemed to have faded.

After a short visit, Belle escorted her niece to the door.  "See?  I told you he would say yes."

Gold wasn’t sure if he’d been meant to overhear that, but since he had, he couldn’t ignore it.  Once the door closed behind Grace, he asked, "Is she still afraid of me?”

“No, not really.  She just doesn’t like having to ask people for things.”  Belle slipped around the counter with a sigh and leaned against his side.

“I’m worried about her.  Some of her friends made fun of her for getting dolls for Christmas.  Apparently, dolls are for babies.  She’s _eight_.”  Her hand curled into a loose fist against the counter.

“She’s not like everybody else.  She doesn’t fit it.”  Belle shook her head.  "Jefferson thought I could help her, but I can’t.  I don’t know how to fit in either."

Gold looked down at her in surprise.  "That’s not true.  You’re very good with people.”

“That doesn’t mean I fit in.  I’m okay with that.  When you grow up, it doesn’t matter so much.  Jefferson and I embrace our weirdness.  We’ve learned not to care what other people think about us.  Grace isn’t there yet.  When you’re a kid, you just want to be normal.”  Belle cast a brooding look at the door.

Gold was utterly out of his depth.  He had no words of wisdom for her since he’d never learned how to fit in either.  Unlike Belle and Jefferson, he’d never quite learned how not to care about the opinions of others though.  "I don’t know how to help."

"Just give me a hug,” Belle requested.

He wrapped his arms around her, wishing that he could fix the situation.  In a way, he’d contributed to the problem since he’d given Grace a Barbie doll, even if Belle had been the one to procure it.  But that shouldn’t be a problem.  Grace _liked_ the doll.  Why should she have to change her interests just because her classmates didn’t approve?  And what right did an eight year old have to call anyone else a baby?

He wasn’t quite ready to let Belle go when she stepped out of his arms.  "Thanks.  That helped."

It was obvious that she was being polite since he hadn’t done anything, but Gold didn’t argue.  Instead, he set to work trying to solve both of the current problems: how to help Grace make better friends and what to get Belle for Valentine’s Day.

He ruminated on the issues for the remainder of the workday, but by the time he pulled into the French family’s driveway, he was no closer to finding answers.  If Grace was five, he might have some useful insight, but third grade was uncharted territory for him.  Nor could he think of something Belle might like for a gift.  Since she had enough money to buy herself anything she might want, it needed to be something she wouldn’t think to buy herself, but things like jewelry and flowers seemed cliché.

Instead of Belle, it was Grace who met him at the front door.  The child led him to Jefferson’s office and waved for him to take a seat while she hopped into the chair behind her father’s glass desk, her short legs swinging.

Looking very professional, she picked up a pencil and read the first question.  "What is your full name?”

They were in trouble already.

“Mr. Gold.”

Grace giggled at him.  "Mister isn’t a first name!"

Although he was reasonably sure that Grace knew his first name was Nachton, Gold had no interest in sharing that knowledge with the teachers at her school.  However, it wouldn’t be fair to allow the girl to lose points because he valued his privacy.

Gold braced his hands on his cane and leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret.  "I don’t like people knowing my first name.  I don’t mind you and your father and your aunt knowing, but I don’t want anyone else to know.”

Grace’s lip wobbled.  "But it’s on the paper."

He held up his finger to stop her protest.  "I know.  So, here’s what we’re going to do.  Make a bracket…”

It took him a moment to show Grace what he wanted her to do, then he spelled out “R-e-d-a-c-t-e-d.  Now, make another bracket and write Gold.”

“[Redacted] Gold,” Grace sounded out, her brow knitting.  "What does that mean?"

"It means ‘I know his first name, but I’m not going to tell you’.”  Gold smirked.  "If your teacher protests, tell her to call me."

Grace accepted this at face value and moved on to the next question.  "How old are you?”

“Fifty-two.”

From the face she made when she wrote the number down, the little girl seemed to consider him ancient.  "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

How the _hell_ was he supposed to answer that?  Gold hadn’t expected these questions to be so difficult.  "No.”

Things got easier from there, but Gold was sweating by the time they reached the end of the paper.  Grace asked him about his education, job, and hobbies, and even though he answered in the broadest strokes possible, he still revealed more about himself than he usually told anyone.

“Do you have to talk about this in class or just hand it in?” he asked with trepidation.

“We’re going to hang them up and walk around and look at them.  We have to draw pictures.”  Grace held up the paper to display the empty block where she was supposed to draw a picture of him.

“Wonderful.”  

The little girl was oblivious to his antipathy.  "You can come and see if you want.  They’re going to put them up in the hall."

This just kept getting better and better.  Now, his secrets would be put on display for anyone who cared to read his interview.  No one had mentioned that part of the project.

"Thank you!” Grace chirped as she bounced to her feet.

“You’re welcome.”  Somehow, he managed to not snatch the paper away from the child and tear it to shreds.

“Aunt Belle is in her room.”

Gold followed her directions to the second floor, passing Jefferson along the way.  Belle’s brother waved a warning finger at him.  "Make sure the door stays open and everyone remains vertical."

"Shut up, Jefferson!”  Belle’s voice floated through her open door.

With exaggerated innocence, Jefferson called back, “You don’t want to be late for dinner!”

Lowering his head to hide his flushed face, Gold ducked around Jefferson and through Belle’s door.

“I apologize on my brother’s behalf,” Belle said primly as he stumbled in.  Louder, she added, “Because he’s a creepy weirdo!”

“I am a charming rogue,” Jefferson contradicted, his voice fading down the hall.

Once he gathered his composure, Gold looked around the room, curious to see this private space.  Unlike his own bedroom, Belle’s room was light and airy with modern furnishings.  Her bed dominated one side of the large room, something he didn’t dare look at too closely with Jefferson’s warning still ringing in his ears.  Closest to the door was a sitting area with two chairs and a comfortable looking chaise upholstered in light gray that was currently occupied by Belle.  

When she gestured at the foot of her chaise, he dropped gratefully onto it.  "You didn’t tell me my interview would be put on display in the school hallway."

Her brow furrowed.  "It will?  I didn’t know about that part.  Is that a problem?”

If she didn’t know, he couldn’t be upset that she hadn’t told him.  Mollified, Gold thought back over the brief interview and decided that he hadn’t revealed anything truly personal.  "I suppose not.  She asked if I had siblings."

Belle winced.  "I didn’t read the questions.  What did you say?”

“I said no.”

Although he braced himself for her to rebuke him for lying to her niece, Belle nodded.  "Good call."

She scooted over, pressing herself to one side of the chaise.  "Come here.”

With his bad leg, it wasn’t easy for him to maneuver until he was stretched out beside her, but once he was reclining with Belle pressed against his side, the effort was worth it.

"Are you okay?"

"I’m fine,” he assured her, touched by her concern.  Belle was worried about her niece, but she still cared enough to worry about him too.  

He rested his chin on the top of her head.  "What about you?  Are you feeling any better?"

Belle sighed.  "I guess.  I just wish I could do more for her.”

“I understand.”  This wasn’t a problem he’d faced with Bae, but he could certainly relate to the desire to protect a child from anything and everything that might hurt her.

“But I can’t right now, so let’s talk about something else.”  Belle wriggled a little, pressing her hip against his groin.

Gold swallowed a groan, wondering if Jefferson was still lurking outside.  "What… do you want to talk about?"

Taking hold of his wrist, Belle moved his hand to her upper thigh.  "Have you read any good books lately?”

Once again, he found himself sweating, this time for far more pleasant reasons.  Entranced, he stared down at where his hand was resting on her thigh, watching his fingertips slip under the hem of her skirt as he lightly caressed her.  "I… read…"

“Aunt Belle!”

Gold snatched his hand back, his face flaming.  A moment later, Grace poked her head around Belle’s door, pulling a face at the sight of the pair of them lying together on the chaise.  "You look squished."

Belle snickered as Gold looked anywhere except at the child.  In a desperate bid to calm his racing heart, he started an inventory of all of the things in his line of sight: three plants, a lamp, a clay figurine, six colorful stones, a shelf of books…

"We’re pretty comfortable.  Was there something you wanted?”  Belle sounded totally calm.

“Dinner’s ready,” Grace announced.

“We’ll be right down.”

Agreeably, the girl nodded before sprinting away, but Gold barely noticed, his attention focused on something else.  "Where are your books?"

Belle followed his gaze to her bookshelf.  "They’re right there.”

In addition to the Oz books, roughly two dozen volumes filled the shelf.  Some of the titles he recognized as books Belle had indicated were her personal favorites while other titles were unfamiliar to him, but his desire to examine those volumes was secondary to his curiosity about something else.

“No, I mean where are the rest of them?”  Anyone who loved books as much as Belle did had to have a substantial library, but she obviously kept them somewhere else in the house.   Perhaps she would give him a tour of her collection after dinner.

“That’s all of them.”  

She laughed at his dumbfounded expression.  "Considering how much I travel, I only keep copies of my all-time favorites.  Otherwise, I get things at libraries or download e-books or trade things in at used bookstores."

Although he could understand the practicality of her approach, Gold’s soul rebelled at the idea.  He loved being surrounded by books, and from the way Belle reacted to her first look at his office, she felt the same way.  It seemed wrong that she shouldn’t have that pleasure in her own home.

His breath caught in his throat as he realized he knew _exactly_ what to get her for Valentine’s Day.

Unaware of his epiphany, Belle gave him a gentle nudge.  "Come on.  If we don’t appear soon, Jefferson’s going to come looking for us.”

Gold’s mind raced as he dragged himself off of the chaise with Belle’s help.  It wouldn’t be a conventional gift, and she might decide that it required more work than she wanted to put in, but if nothing else, it would certainly be memorable.  More importantly, it would show that he’d genuinely tried to do something special for her.  Wrapping it might be an issue though.

Two weeks was a tight time frame, but it should be just long enough to do what he needed to do if the mayor cooperated.  Belle would certainly be surprised after saying she wasn’t expecting anything spectacular.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.


	21. Chapter 21

It was possible that he’d made a very big mistake.

When Gold first had the idea for Belle’s Valentine’s Day present, it had seemed perfect.  The mayor had been making vague noises about him buying the abandoned library and all of its contents ever since it became clear that Storybrooke’s aging fleet of snow plows was unlikely to survive the winter, meaning that the town was in dire need of some quick cash.  Although the property had potential, dealing with the thousands of books under its roof was a bigger project than he’d felt like taking on when his time could be more productively spent with his new shop assistant.

Now, however, Belle was his girlfriend, not just his assistant, and he was determined to give her a Valentine’s Day gift that she would remember for the rest of her life.  What could be a better present for a voracious reader than books and lots of them?

When he imagined giving her the library’s collection, he’d envisioned perusing the shelves with her as she decided which of the volumes she wanted to add to her personal collection.  Even if only a tenth of the books interested her, once she made her choices she would still have a vast collection, and the volumes she didn’t want could be sold or donated.  Even better, it would be an excuse for them to spend more time together, discussing favorite genres and stealing kisses in the stacks.  

Somehow, he hadn’t realized that the books would no longer be neatly organized for Belle to examine.  Instead of giving her free reign of her own personal library, her Valentine’s Day present was currently a roomful of dusty boxes of books that might or might not be in any particular order.

Belle was going to take one look at her gift and surmise he was trying to get her to do the work of organizing his latest acquisitions under the guise of giving her a present, and Gold wouldn’t be able to blame her.  He should have bought her a box of chocolate truffles and called it a day.

“Hell,” he muttered as he surveyed the piles of boxes.  The sale of the property hadn’t been finalized until late last night, giving him no time to have the library cleaned up before the holiday.  Today was Valentine’s Day, and Belle’s gift was going to be memorable for all of the wrong reasons.

It wasn’t too late, he thought desperately as he turned his back on the depressing sight and exited the building, locking the door behind him.  He would pass the florist shop on his way to the pawnshop, and it was early enough that the entire stock couldn’t be sold out already.  He would buy Belle a beautiful bouquet and not breathe a word about the library.  Flowers wouldn’t be an exciting gift, but she’d already told him that she wasn’t expecting fireworks.

He quickened his pace as the florist shop came into view, his heart lifting at the sight.  He’d anticipated a line of men wrapping around the block, but the shop looked all but deserted.  Clearly he’d managed to beat the rush.  He could take his time selecting Belle’s flowers and still make it to the pawnshop before she arrived to start the day.

As he approached the shop, a sign on the front door written in very large letters on very red paper gave him a clue as to why the florist was less busy than Gold had anticipated.

_SOLD OUT!  ADVANCE ORDER’S ONLY!_

The misplaced apostrophe made him wince.  It went against all of his instincts to patronize a shop that would mistreat the language in such a way, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  If the florist could sell him a bouquet of roses, he was willing to overlook the tortured spelling.

Gold strode through the shop’s door and paused in the middle of the floor as he executed a slow turn, evaluating each bouquet on display until his gaze lighted on one in particular: a crystal vase of red roses accented with a fan of purple orchids that was perfect for Belle.

“I’ll take that one.”

The shopkeeper, a small, fussy man with thick glasses, didn’t move from his position behind the counter.  "I’m sorry, but that is a special order for David Nolan.  Did you place an advance order, Mr. Gold?"

From the man’s tone, it was clear that he knew that Gold had done no such thing, and Gold didn’t appreciate the implication that he’d been remiss in not arranging for flowers for Belle a month in advance.  It wasn’t as though he’d _forgotten_ about the holiday.  He’d had a perfectly good idea for a gift that had unfortunately fallen through at the last minute, necessitating a change of plans.

It was poetic justice that Nolan had ordered that particular bouquet.  Since the library had been packed up under Mary Margaret Nolan’s watch, ruining Belle’s surprise, it was only fair that he take her flowers as a replacement.

"David Nolan isn’t here,” he pointed out.  "I am."

The shopkeeper pushed up his glasses.  "I’m sorry, Mr. Gold, but that bouquet is not for sale.  All of these bouquets are spoken for, but if you come back tomorrow, you can have your pick of the stock.”

Tomorrow would be too late.  Belle was expecting a Valentine’s Day present, not a day-after-Valentine’s Day present.  

As a general rule, his mere presence was enough to persuade other people to see things his way, but the florist was obviously made of sterner stuff.  On another day, Gold might have appreciated that.  Today, however, terrified compliance would have made his life much easier.

Under normal circumstances, this was a game that Gold enjoyed.  The subtle art of intimidation was one that he’d been practicing for decades, and it was a pleasure to bring all of his expertise to bear against a recalcitrant target.  By the time he finished with the florist, the man would be paying _him_ to carry the bouquet out of the shop.

Unfortunately, Belle would be arriving at the pawnshop in less than ten minutes.  He didn’t have time to be subtle.  "I’ll pay you twice the price you quoted Nolan."

The florist folded his hands primly.  "I could not possibly disappoint a client.”

Gold ground his teeth and resisted the urge to point out that the florist seemed happy to disappoint _him_.  "In return for that bouquet, I’ll waive your March rent payment."

Two minutes later, he left the shop with the most expensive bouquet of flowers in the history of Storybrooke in hand.  Somehow, he was going to have to ensure that Belle didn’t find out about the deal he’d made because she’d lose all respect for his business prowess if she learned he’d essentially paid more than two thousand dollars for a handful of roses.

At least dinner was taken care of.  He’d done the marketing himself for the lamb chops and roasted potatoes he planned to cook for Belle tonight, and he’d even come up with a few little tasks for her so she could contribute to the making of their dinner.  For dessert there was a truly impressive chocolate torte that he’d driven all the way to Boston to procure, so even if he set fire to the meat and dropped the potatoes, they would still dine like royalty.

All he had to do was make it through the workday.  Once that miserable task was accomplished, the evening was his to spend with his lady, and Belle had given him a most bewitching smile when she suggested she bring an overnight bag with her to the house.

Although he would never wish away time with Belle, Gold couldn’t wait for the evening to come.

He arrived at the shop scant minutes before Belle was scheduled to arrive and had just enough time to fix his hair and position the bouquet in the exact center of the counter where she would be sure to see it before the door opened to admit her.

"Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Yes, well… The same to you.”  Despite his best attempt at sounding gruff, he couldn’t help but return her radiant smile.

She couldn’t possibly have missed the flowers, but just in case, he nodded to them as she hung up her coat.  "These are for you."

"Oh, Nachton, they’re _beautiful_!”  Belle’s heels clicked against the floor as she rushed to bury her face in the roses.  

With shining eyes, she looked up and looped his tie around her hand to tug him down for a kiss.  "Thank you."

"You’re welcome,” he rumbled.  It was worth the exorbitant price to see her delight.  His original plan had fallen apart, but at least he hadn’t disappointed her on Valentine’s Day.

“Are you guys open?”  The bell jangled as a harried man stuck his head into the shop, ignoring the Closed sign.

“And so it begins,” Belle intoned, releasing him with a rueful smile.  "I’ll give you your present later."

"Once more into the breach,” he agreed in his most fatalistic tone.  Any sympathy he’d found for last-minute shoppers evaporated as Belle moved away from him to wait on their first customer.

Gold had just enough time to catch a glimpse of a flat, square package wrapped in red foil peeking out of Belle’s purse before they were besieged.  From that point on, he didn’t even have a chance to wonder what she’d bought for him, much less try to sneak an exploratory feel of the wrapped gift in pursuit of a hint.

Belle found a moment to stash her flowers safely in the back, something Gold was grateful for when a frantic David Nolan burst into the shop shortly before closing time.  "I need something for Mary Margaret.  The florist lost my order."

"Oh dear.”  Gold made the correct noises of sympathy, feeling only a fleeting instant of guilt.  Had David made it to the florist shop in a timely manner, he could have picked up his bouquet before Gold bought it out from under him.  It was the early bird who caught the worm.

In the end, he gave the other man a very fair price for a replica of Excalibur, an unconventional Valentine’s Day present.  Perhaps there was more to their mayor than he realized.

Then again, Belle nodded her approval of the gift, so perhaps women just had a natural passion for weaponry.  He would have to file that bit of information away for the next holiday.  There was a rather unusual dagger around here somewhere that she might appreciate if he cleaned it up a bit.

Although the constant stream of customers made the hours pass quickly, it still felt like they’d been working for several days straight by the time Belle finally locked the door and flipped the sign.  "I hope you’re planning to serve wine with dinner."

"I think I can find a bottle or two,” he chuckled.  Hopefully she would enjoy the Syrah he’d selected to pair with their dinner.

After rolling her neck, Belle seemed to revive.  "Do you want your present now or would you rather wait until tonight?"

"I..."  That was just unfair.  He’d already waited all day, but he couldn’t request that she give him the gift without sounding greedy.

As he searched for the correct response, Gold caught sight of her teasing smile and realized that she hadn’t meant the question seriously.  "I’m dying of curiosity.”

Belle bounced lightly on her heels.  "Good because I’m dying to see the look on your face."

That sounded a bit ominous, but when she retrieved the present from her purse and shoved it into his hands, Gold’s fingers identified the unmistakable shape of a book under the wrapping paper.  It seemed that he and Belle had had similar ideas about what would constitute an appropriate Valentine’s Day gift.

Eager to see what book she’d chosen for him, Gold slid his finger under the tape to loosen it, the paper coming away in a single sheet leaving him holding a mysterious volume bound in plain black leather that offered no hint as to its contents.

Belle giggled a little as she leaned closer, her hair brushing against his arm as he opened the book in search of a title page.  His finger slipped as he turned the page, causing him to flip to a section near the middle of the book, and the illustration he saw nearly made him swallow his tongue.

Instinctively, he snapped the book closed as he felt his face heat.  The illustration was tasteful and showed considerable artistic skill, but the content was unmistakable.  Belle had given him a book of erotica.

He had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"I thought maybe it would help,” she said softly.  Gold could feel her looking at him even though he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“You seem a little shy about telling me what you want.  This way you don’t have to.  If there’s something you’re interested in doing, all you have to do is give me a page number.”  Warm fingers caressed his wrist.

“I don’t think I’m flexible enough to attempt any of this,” he muttered, humiliation curdling his stomach.  If this sort of thing was what Belle wanted from him, she was doomed to disappointment.

“You looked at one picture,” she chided, taking the book from his nerveless fingers.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her slowly flip through the book to show him some of the other illustrations.  On the book’s pages, couples kissed and embraced in a variety of positions, some of which looked more comfortable than others.

“I like page eighteen,” she confessed as she turned to it.

Gold sucked in a breath at the illustration Belle had chosen.  In it, a woman sat astride her seated partner’s lap, the man’s face buried in her breasts.  The woman’s hair tumbled down her back, and for an instant, he saw not the woman the artist had drawn, but Belle herself straddling him.

“Do you like it?” she whispered, her voice hesitant.

Although she was referring to the book, Gold heard her real question.  She wanted to know if this was something he would want to try.

“Oh yes.”  He sounded hoarse.  To kiss her beautiful breasts… how could he not want that?

“We can do whatever you want, whenever you want.”  Belle handed the book back to him with a tender smile.  "Maybe we can look at it together after dinner."

"I would like that.”

Any lingering embarrassment was washed away by a fierce surge of anticipation.  They’d been making halting progress for a month and a half, but now Belle’s gift had given them a roadmap to follow.  He wasn’t comfortable talking about such matters, but books he could handle.  Belle had given him a way to voice his desires in the least threatening way possible.  She understood how hard this was for him, so she’d taken the initiative to help without him even needing to ask.

She was perfection.  And he was in love.

For some reason, the realization didn’t surprise him.  It was as though his entire being had always known that he was in love with Belle, and it had just been waiting for his brain to catch up.  

He loved Belle.  Gold turned the words over in his mind, trying not to laugh from sheer giddy delight.  It had taken him fifty-two years, but he’d finally found the woman who would understand him and challenge him, the one with whom he would share everything because he was incomplete without her.  He was in love with Belle.

Since she’d expressed some hesitation about getting into a serious relationship, telling her that he was in love with her was probably not a wise idea.  Their relationship was still too new to withstand the shock of such a declaration.  Those words would keep until she was ready to hear them.  Still, he had to do _something_ to mark the momentous occasion.

“I have something else for you.”  Reaching into his pocket, he fiddled with the key to the library.  As gifts went, it left something to be desired, but maybe if he explained that he’d assumed the books would be easier for her to peruse at her leisure, she would accept them in the spirit he’d intended.  Considering what she’d given him, stolen roses weren’t nearly enough.

Belle’s eyebrows lifted when he offered her the key.  "A key to your place?"

That idea had never occurred to him, but now that she’d mentioned it, Gold added it to his list of things that needed to be done as soon as possible.  It would be lovely if Belle could come and go as she pleased, as comfortable in his home as she was in her own.  

He almost hated to admit the truth.  "It’s a key to the town library.  It’s been closed for a number of years, and I recently acquired it.  Right now the books are all packed away in boxes and—”

Belle squealed as she clasped the key in both hands.  "And you want me to help you reopen it!  Oh, Nachton!"

She threw her arms around his neck, hugging hard enough to restrict his breathing.  "This is great!  What a wonderful idea!  This is a _perfect_ project for us!  Oh, l love it already.  I can’t wait to see it.  We’re going to have so much fun getting it fixed up so everyone can use it again!”

He’d intended to convert the library into luxury apartments after Belle claimed the books she wanted.  The thought of reopening it had never crossed his mind.

His gift had gone completely off the rails, but Belle seemed so delighted that he couldn’t bring himself to correct her.  "Yes.  That was my plan."

Reaching up, she cradled the side of his face.  "I _love_ libraries.  This is the nicest present you could ever give me.  Thank you, Nachton.”

At her urging, he leaned down, his mouth sliding against hers.  By this point he had enough practice not to fear knocking his nose into hers, but he always felt a thrill of nervousness when Belle parted her lips to invite him in.  Even though she never objected to anything he did, he always feared that he would thrust his tongue too deeply into her mouth or do something else that would offend her.

This time, he settled for fluttering his tongue lightly against hers, groaning when Belle closed her lips around it to suck lightly.  The sensation went straight to the base of his cock, and for a confused moment, he wondered what it would feel like to have her lips _there_ instead.

There might be a page in the book about that.

Ashamed at the lewd turn his mind had taken, he pulled back.  "Do you want to see the library now?"

Excitement flashed across Belle’s face before she tempered it.  "I can wait until tomorrow.  We have plans for tonight that I’m looking forward to.”

“As am I.”  He’d been looking forward just to having dinner with her, but now that they’d added his new book to their itinerary, dinner paled a bit in comparison.

Reluctantly, Belle stepped back.  "If I keep kissing you, we’ll never get out of here.  I’ll run home and change, let Grace tell me about her Valentine’s Day class party, and grab my bag.  It shouldn’t take me more than an hour."

That would give him plenty of time to start dinner and attempt to light the candles without burning down the house.  "In that case, I’ll see you soon.”

Despite her assertion that she was going to stop kissing him, Belle tugged him down again.  "One more for the road."

Gold sighed against her lips.  Belle kissed him like she couldn’t get enough of him, and that was a feeling he wholeheartedly shared.  No matter how many times he kissed her or touched her, it was never enough.  After waiting so long to find her, any distance between them was too much.

"I’ll see you in an hour,” she promised, leaving him walking on air as he made his way home.  

It was customary to dress up for a special evening, but he wore a three piece suit every day of his life.  For tonight, Gold had something else in mind.  Since Belle seemed to enjoy seeing his more casual side— a side that hadn’t existed until he met her— he removed his jacket, tie, and waistcoat and undid the first two buttons of his shirt.  Looking at himself in the mirror, he considered rolling up his shirtsleeves as well, but he didn’t want to go overboard.

Satisfied with his appearance, Gold double-checked that the housekeeper had set the table to his specifications, laying out the very best silver and china on a pristine white linen tablecloth.  Since all seemed to be ready for their dinner, save for the candles he was waiting to light at the last moment, he made his way into the kitchen to begin preparing for their meal.

He’d placed his new book on the kitchen table, wanting to keep it close, but as he gathered his ingredients, his mind kept wandering.  His gaze stole to the book every time he turned his head, and the temptation to open it was nearly overwhelming.

Since Belle could name a favorite page, she’d clearly looked through the book before giving it to him.  Perhaps he would be wise to thumb through it himself before she arrived to get the lay of the land, so to speak.  If any of the content was truly shocking, he could get his embarrassment out of the way so it didn’t intrude on their evening.  Maybe he could even find a favorite page of his own to share with her.

However, it seemed wrong to go through the book without Belle beside him.  Her intention had been for them to look at it together.  This was an experience she wanted to share with him, and if he was embarrassed or overwhelmed by the book, she wouldn’t laugh at him.

He had Belle now.  He didn’t have to do things alone any more.

To get temptation out of the way, Gold picked up the book and carried it to his office, placing it beside the fish tank.  

“No peeking,” he admonished Archimedes when the betta swam to the bottom of the tank for a closer look.

“Belle will be here in an hour or so to visit you.”  He sprinkled a few extra flakes into the tank to honor the holiday.  

At the mention of her name, the fish gave his tail a vigorous swish.  His pet was as infatuated with Belle as Gold was, yet more proof that he’d selected the most intelligent betta the shop had to offer.  He and Archimedes both had excellent taste.

Since Belle was certain to want to say hello to Archimedes, putting the book next to his tank would give her a perfect opportunity to suggest they look at it.  Perhaps, if he was feeling very brave, he might even make the suggestion himself.

Gold adjusted the book’s position several times to make it look like a casual placement before he was satisfied.  Now that he’d taken care of the distraction, he could make a start on dinner.

He’d just taken the lamb out of the refrigerator so it could get to room temperature before roasting when his phone chirped.  Since only Belle knew his number, it had to be her on the other end, and he smiled as he pulled the phone out of his pocket, wondering if she’d found time in their hour apart to miss him.

His smile faded when he read her text.  "I’m REALLY sorry, but can we postpone dinner until tomorrow?  Grace had a rough day."

The disappointment nearly choked him.  If Belle wasn’t coming, all of his careful plans were for naught.  The beautiful evening he’d envisioned was slipping through his fingers, and there was no way he could protest without looking like a cad when a child’s feelings were at stake.

"Of course.”

He should probably say more, but Gold didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing.  How bad of a day could an eight year old even _have_?  Surely nothing could have happened that was so dreadful that it required her aunt to cancel her own plans in order to provide comfort.

The ungracious thought made him curse himself.  He could remember some utterly miserable days from his own childhood, and even if Grace’s problem was small, it probably didn’t feel that way to her.  Everything always looked bigger to a child.  Besides, if her niece was upset, Belle would be too worried to enjoy herself if she decided to keep their original plan.

“I hope she feels better soon.  Dinner will keep.”  

To prove his own point, Gold put the lamb back into the refrigerator.  When he thought about it logically, there was no harm in waiting until tomorrow or even the next night.  Since he’d repeatedly insisted that Valentine’s Day wasn’t a real holiday, it was foolish of him to be upset that they couldn’t celebrate on an arbitrary date.

Her next text came several minutes later.  "You’re the best, Nachton.  I’m so sorry.  I’ll see you in the morning."

It was a simple message, but Gold read it several times, taking an unreasonable amount of pleasure in both the compliment and in seeing his name written out.  There was nothing more natural than being called by one’s name, but it felt shockingly intimate when Belle did it, a feeling that was compounded by her going to the trouble to type it out.  Having her call him Nachton made him feel seen— made him feel _real_ — in a way he wasn’t used to.

That, at least, was some consolation for their ruined evening.

No, not ruined, he corrected himself.  They could still do everything they’d planned to do.  They’d just postponed their plans because life got in the way.  That happened sometimes.  Life wasn’t a book where everything always went as planned.  In the real world, little problems cropped up constantly.  Maybe this was his punishment for creating one of those problems for David Nolan earlier in the day.

In place of the lamb chops and roasted potatoes he’d assumed he would be eating tonight, Gold heated himself some soup and decided to turn in early.  He would read for a bit before going to sleep, and when he woke, it would be morning and time to see Belle again.

He realized his mistake as he changed into his pajamas.  He’d instructed the housekeeper to put his best sheets on the bed and iron them first.  Now that he knew Belle was going to be sleeping beside him, he wanted everything to be perfect for her.  A glance at the bed assured him that everything _was_ perfect; she just wasn’t here.

Instead of undoing the housekeeper’s work, he took himself back downstairs to his office and settled himself on the couch.  In his tank, Archimedes was glaring at him, and Gold realized the fish was justified in being angry with him.

"I’m sorry.  Belle had to change her plans.  She’s coming tomorrow instead.”

A baleful flick of the tail was all the answer he got, and Gold felt the need to defend himself.  "It’s not my fault.  Grace had an issue at school."

From the fish’s expression, Archimedes didn’t completely believe him.

"She told me to tell you she sends her love.”  Belle had said no such thing, but the fish turned a satisfied somersault at the white lie before settling near the bottom of his tank.

Now that family harmony had been restored, Gold attempted to turn his attention to his book, but his mind kept wandering to the Valentine’s Day gift that was still on his desk where he’d left it.  He wouldn’t look at it without Belle, but he couldn’t help but try to picture what other illustrations it might contain.  For the sake of propriety, he never dared allow himself to think about Belle in a sexual manner, but the existence of the book was inviting him to do just that.

He hummed in the back of his throat as his mind conjured up an image of page eighteen.  This time, instead of an anonymous couple embracing, he saw himself and Belle, her astride him, her hair tumbling down her bare back as he buried his face against her breasts.

His body twitched at the mental picture, and he sucked in a breath as his hand strayed to his groin, his fingers brushing tentatively over his cock through his pajama pants.  Even that light touch was enough to make him groan, his flesh hardening further as his mind conjured more details, like the feel of Belle’s fingers tugging at his hair as he kissed her chest.

When guilt twisted his gut at using her image to give himself pleasure, Gold tamped it back down.  He wasn’t disrespecting Belle by thinking of her this way.  She’d told him that he was allowed to.  She’d even told him that she would be offended if he _didn’t_ think of her while he touched himself.  

He let out a long sigh as he gave himself another stroke before a splash of water interrupted his fantasy.  In his tank, Archimedes was staring fixedly at him, and the fish’s scrutiny dispelled his desire, his body softening.

Gathering his tattered dignity, Gold picked up his book again and tried to interest himself in its pages, aware that Archimedes was still looking at him.  "Don’t let me keep you awake."

Even though the fish didn’t respond, Gold had the feeling that his pet was laughing at him.

"Good _night_ , Archimedes.”

A soft splash was his only reply.


	22. Chapter 22

To Gold’s surprise he slept well, the soft bubbling from the fish tank providing a relaxing soundtrack for his dreams.  As roommates went, Archimedes was a very satisfactory one, although he expected that tonight he would find sleeping next to Belle far more enjoyable than spending the night with the betta.

Of course, that was assuming that Belle wouldn’t need to delay their Valentine’s Day plans for a second night.  Since Gold rarely looked forward to anything, he was rarely disappointed, but things had changed since he met Belle.  Now he had something to look forward to every day, and being denied her company when he expected it was disheartening.

Fortunately, the bell over the shop’s door jingled merrily at Belle’s usual arrival time, and Gold felt his lingering disappointment evaporate when she immediately rushed to throw her arms around him.  "I’m so sorry about last night."

Since she’d already apologized, the words were as unnecessary as they were appreciated.  Mollified, Gold wrapped his arms around her, feeling the soft wool of her coat beneath his palms.  She’d been in such a hurry to embrace him that she hadn’t even taken the time to take it off, and that was a lovely thing.  "It’s no matter.”

Belle stepped back to shed her coat.  "We had plans, and I canceled at the last minute.  On Valentine’s Day, no less.  That deserves at least a little groveling."

On that issue, he could reassure her.  "No groveling is necessary.  Valentine’s Day is no more special than any other day.  It’s an arbitrary date that’s been glorified by restauranteurs, jewelers, and florists, nothing more.”

As he’d hoped, his oft-repeated complaints about the holiday made Belle smile even as she rolled her eyes at him.  "So, what does it say about you that you chose to participate in that glorification?"

He sniffed haughtily.  "It says that I’m willing to compromise my principles for a beautiful pair of blue eyes.”

Belle slipped her arm around his waist for a quick embrace.  "I’ve never received a nicer begrudging compliment."

"Word-smithing is just one of my many talents.”  He should probably make more of an effort to say nice things to Belle on a regular basis, but if he stopped grumping at her in favor of sweet talk, she might think he’d taken ill.

“It certainly is,” she agreed as she went to hang up her coat.  "I really enjoyed the card you included with my flowers.  It was nice reading about how I’m the sun and stars that you’ll follow anywhere."

Gold froze as he tried to figure out what she was talking about.  He’d been in such a hurry to get his stolen bouquet to the pawnshop before Belle arrived that he hadn’t even thought about writing out a card, and if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have written _that_.

Mortification swept through him as he realized what must have happened.  Since that bouquet had originally been intended for Mary Margaret Nolan, those overwrought sentiments had to have been authored by David Nolan.  The florist, by accident or by design, had forgotten to remove the card from the bouquet, and Gold hadn’t noticed it.

"Ah.”  Hopefully whatever else Nolan had written wasn’t too soppy.  If Belle was going to attribute the other man’s words to him, it would be nice to know what exactly he’d said.

“I’m glad you liked it.”  That seemed like a safe enough response.  

“Oh, I did.”  Belle turned from the coat hook, a Cheshire smile playing at her lips.  "I _was_ a bit curious about why you signed your name as David though."

Gold winced, realizing that his cover had been thoroughly blown.  "There must have been a mix-up at the florist shop.”

Belle nodded wisely.  "I wonder if that was the same mix-up that resulted in the florist ‘losing’ David Nolan’s order."

There was no way she was going to let him brazen this out.  To his dismay, honesty was his only option.  "I’ll have you know that I did put thought and effort into choosing your flowers.  At the last minute, I thought the library might be a bit too unconventional of a present, so I wanted to make sure you had a traditional gift as well.”

Belle’s lips twitched.  "So, you gave me David Nolan’s flowers."

"I gave you the best flowers the shop had to offer.  It just so happens that David Nolan was the one who originally commissioned them.”  The man had excellent taste, Gold could grant him that much.

He wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on Belle’s face.  "Are you angry with me?"

If she was, it was better to get it out in the open.  The female mind was still a mystery to Gold, but he could see how she might be offended that he’d given her used flowers, although it hadn’t been his intention.  If so, the problem would be easy to fix.  Since the florist had promised him first choice of today’s stock, he could procure a replacement before lunch.

Instead of railing at him for handing her another woman’s flowers, Belle giggled.  "Of course not.  Actually, I think it’s kind of cute that you went into evil landlord mode just to make sure I had Valentine’s Day flowers.  At least, I assume that’s what you did, since it’s your usual problem solving strategy.  You weren’t _too_ awful to the poor florist, were you?”

Now that he knew Belle wasn’t upset, he could appreciate the humor of the situation more than he had yesterday.  "Not at all.  Like any business transaction, it was a simple matter of supply and demand.  I demanded those flowers, and he supplied them."

Upon pain of torture, he wouldn’t admit that he’d waived an entire month’s rent in exchange for the bouquet.  Let Belle think he’d terrorized the villagers in order to secure her present.  It was more dignified than the truth.

Belle chuckled at his summation.  "Oh, Nachton.  You’re something else.”

Gold wasn’t the kind of man who tolerated being laughed at, but when Belle did it, it was somehow charming.  Instead of ridiculing him, her laughter felt like praise, evidence that she enjoyed their time together as much as he did.

“So, did your last minute shopping experience soften your heart toward other people who wait until the day of to buy their presents?”  Belle managed to brush her entire body against his as she slipped past him to take her position behind the counter.

“Not in the slightest.”  He’d had a very good reason for rushing around at the last minute.  The other denizens of Storybrooke were just fools with a bad habit of procrastination.

“Of course not.”  Belle nudged her hip against his.

Their first customer would be arriving any minute, so Gold didn’t dare let himself get distracted by her nearness.  The day after Valentine’s Day wasn’t as brutal as Boxing Day, but there would still be a long line of people seeking to trade in disappointing gifts from their significant others or offload mementos from a relationship that had imploded the previous day.

To that end, he sought to change the subject.  "How is Grace today?“

To his horror, Belle looked like she was about to cry for a moment before her expression changed to one of quiet rage.  "Not one person gave her a valentine.  Not _one_.”

“I’m sorry.”  He’d had nothing to do with Grace’s disappointment, but he was sorry he’d upset Belle by reminding her of the matter.

“Her class even has rules about that.  If you give a valentine to one person, you have to give them to everyone.  Grace gave them to everyone, and everyone left her out.  I’ve never seen her so devastated.”  Belle looked very much like she would like to punch someone.

“She must have been very disappointed.”  By the time he was Grace’s age, he’d learned never to expect anything from anyone, but Grace was having a happier childhood than he’d had.

Briefly, Gold was tempted to reassure Belle by informing her that he’d never received a single valentine, and _he’d_ turned out fine, but he reconsidered at the last second.  In her current mood, Belle was unlikely to find that information comforting.  It was also highly possible that she would point out that he hadn’t turned out as fine as he thought, given his romantic history.

“It’s just so _mean_!”  The distress was obvious on her face as she looked up at him.  "I didn’t think the mean would start until middle school.  I don’t remember elementary school being like this.  It’s not _fair_."

Complaining about fairness made her sound like a child herself, but she was in no state to appreciate the humor of it if he pointed it out.  Life _wasn’t_ fair, and a woman Belle’s age should know that.  She probably did, but it was a lesson that was easy to forget when a cherished child was involved.

Gold had no idea how to untangle the emotional lives of eight year old girls, but he did know how to be mean.  Perhaps he could solve the problem by beating them at their own game.  "If you give me the names of the children who excluded her, I can have their families evicted.”

It wasn’t an elegant solution, but it would be an effective one.  Her classmates couldn’t be cruel to Grace if they found themselves living outside the borders of the Storybrooke school district.  

Belle gazed at him for a long moment before she let out a rueful laugh.  "Let’s call that Plan B."

If she didn’t like his plan, Gold couldn’t think of any other ideas to offer.  He turned the matter over in his mind as the customers started to arrive, determined to find a solution that would earn Belle's approval.  As her boyfriend— his mind still tripped a little over that word— it was his responsibility to help her solve her problems.

Considering that this problem involved the social circle of an eight year old girl, he was completely out of his depth, but Gold had never allowed that to stop him before.  When reduced to its base components, the problem was simple: Grace didn’t have friends.  Ergo, she needed some.

In this case, identifying the specific problem was less of a help than he’d hoped.  Making friends was never something that he’d excelled at.  At this point in his life, he had exactly one real friend, and he'd done absolutely nothing to earn that friendship.  Belle had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue and cheerfully ignored all of his efforts to push her away until he discovered that he liked her.  Then he’d dated her for over a month before he’d noticed what was happening between them. 

In good conscience, he couldn’t suggest that Grace try his strategy.  The odds of both of them managing to blunder into a satisfying relationship were slim.

How did normal people make friends?  Since he regularly saw people socializing in groups, it couldn’t be _that_ difficult.  Mary Margaret Nolan seemed to be friends with everyone, but since she was the mayor, that was in her own best interest if she wanted to be reelected.  Maybe she could give Grace some lessons.

When he suggested as much to Belle, she snorted.  "She’s shy, not an alien.  She knows how to get along with people.  Her ex-friends are just being jerks for no reason, and everyone else is following their lead.”

If it was one particular group that was the problem, they needed to get Grace away from that group.  Since Belle wouldn’t let him evict their families, the other option was to move Grace.  "Could she transfer to a different school?"

Belle groaned.  "Maybe?  I hate to uproot her in the middle of the year.  Besides, she _likes_ her school.  If she had even one person to hang out with, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Not too long ago, a girl from a wealthy family would have had a paid companion, but that was probably out of the question in this situation.  Grace needed someone her own age to talk to and play with, someone who shared her interests and liked the same kinds of games that she liked.

“Can she do an activity?” he asked slowly, thinking the idea through as he said the words.  There were all sorts of classes for children.  If Grace took one, she might meet someone new, and the activity would give them something in common to talk about.

“Jefferson and I looked into that.  There isn’t much in town, and most of the stuff that Grace is interested in already has at least one of those girls in it.”  Belle leaned against his shoulder.  "Thanks for trying."

"Why does it have to be Storybrooke?  Boston is only two hours away.  That’s not too far to drive.”  Since he’d recently driven to Boston to pick up a cake, he could speak with some authority on that.  

“For an eight year old?”  Belle sounded doubtful.

“It will be an adventure.”  If nothing else, the distance should ensure that none of the new children could have their attitudes poisoned by Grace’s ex-friends.

Belle seemed to be seriously considering the suggestion.  "I’ll talk to Jefferson about it.  We could always do a trial run and see how it goes."

"We could take turns driving,” he added to sweeten the deal.

Her eyebrows lifted.  "You’re willing to drive four hours round trip to take Grace to a dance class?"

"Well, I’d prefer it if you came too, but yes.”  Since the shop’s hours were set at his discretion, they could always close early for the purpose.  It wouldn’t be an ideal way to spend an evening, but it wasn’t as though he had anything more pressing to do with his time.

Leaning up, Belle brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.  "You’re pretty great, you know that?"

He knew nothing of the kind, but if Belle kept saying lovely things about him, he was going to end up believing her.

Since he didn’t know how to answer her question, Gold simply turned his head to deepen the kiss, reveling in the softness of her lips and the cool silk of her dress as he stroked her back with his fingertips.  With a sigh, she nestled closer to him, making his body hum with pleasurable anticipation even though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was waiting for.

Before he could find out, the bell jangled harshly, and he tore himself away from Belle as a very pregnant and very angry Ashley Boyd stormed in with something clenched in her right hand.

The two of them watched in silence as Ashley slammed her hand down on the counter to reveal a diamond tennis bracelet. "Men are _scum_.”

She’d snarled the words at Belle, who looked at him out of the corner of her eye.  Quickly surmising that it would be better if he wasn’t the one to tell her that the stones in her bracelet were fake, Gold made his excuses.  "I’ll go pick up lunch."

As soon as Belle nodded her agreement to the plan, Gold vacated the shop.  Knowing Belle, she would be able to calm Ashley down about whatever sin Sean Herman had committed, but if not, she could always text him if she needed him to return.  In the meantime, he had the feeling that it would be better for everyone if he found somewhere else to be.

As he made his way to the diner, his mind returned to the problem of Grace.  He didn’t feel the paternal love and protectiveness for Belle’s niece that he’d had for Bae, but Grace already had a father.   Since he was her aunt’s boyfriend, that made him something akin to an uncle, a role that was new to him.  What would a caring uncle do in this situation?

The front window of the local gift shop was already decorated for Easter, but there had to be some Valentine’s Day merchandise still hanging around.  As a shop owner himself, Gold knew better than most that surplus inventory didn’t just disappear once it was no longer needed.

As he’d hoped, he found several shelves devoted to clearance items in the back of the shop, and he took his time going through the leftover trinkets in hopes of finding something that looked more like a thoughtful gift and less like something random that he’d picked up for half price.

In the end, he found a card with a glittery unicorn on it, a stuffed sloth with rainbow fur, and a heart-shaped box of assorted chocolates with cartoon princesses on it.  To hold it all, he selected a gift bag in a shade of pink that made his eyes water and glared at the clerk as the man rang up his purchases, daring him to comment.

His present wouldn’t make up for the humiliation of not receiving any valentines from her classmates, but it was better than nothing.  Jefferson and Belle would have given Grace gifts for the holiday, but they were family and could therefore be expected to supply gifts on the relevant occasions.  Getting a present from him would be a surprise, and that novelty might make it a little more special.  

He attracted some odd looks when he walked into the diner with the pink gift bag in hand, but one scowl convinced Storybrooke’s gossips to mind their own business at least as long as he was within earshot.  The minute he left, they’d be twittering to each other, but Gold found that he didn’t care what they thought.  He was doing something nice for Grace, and that was more important than maintaining his cold facade.

He took his time perusing the menu until Belle texted him to let him know that the coast was clear.  Once he verified that she wanted her usual lunch, he placed their order and was on his way again in a matter of minutes, the speed of service making him suspect that Ruby hadn’t bothered waiting for him to order before she told the cook to make a pair of hamburgers with extra pickles.

He hadn’t forgotten his silent vow to always order extra pickles so he could give them to Belle, and now Ruby gave them to him automatically.  There was something wonderful about that.  It was probably nothing more than his imagination, but it felt like the waitress was publicly acknowledging his relationship with Belle every time she gave him the extra dill slices.

Even though Belle had assured him that Ashley was gone, Gold still opted to slip in through the back door and peek through the curtain that divided the front of the shop from the back to ensure that she hadn’t returned.  To his relief, he saw only Belle, and he took advantage of the moment to watch her as she leaned against the counter and thumbed through a book, her hair shining as it was hit by a ray of afternoon sun.

Eventually, she became aware of his scrutiny, jumping when she glanced up to see him watching her.  "How long have you been standing there?”

“A minute or two.  I was admiring the view.”  

She dimpled with pleasure.  "Smooth-talker.  I should have let you handle Ashley."

"Since all men are scum, I doubt she would have listened to anything I had to say.  Did she give you any trouble?”  He kept the gift bag behind his back as he approached her.

Belle shook her head.  "She’s just hormonal.  I talked her into keeping the bracelet, so I didn’t have to break the news that it’s a fake."

"A wise course of action.”  As soon as he was within range, Gold deposited the bag on the counter.

At Belle’s questioning look, he explained, “For Grace.  You can tell her that I forgot to give this to you for her yesterday.”

Her hair hid her face as she ducked her head to look through the bag, and Gold held his breath as he mentally reviewed each item he’d bought, wondering if the gifts met with her approval.  Before he could ask, Belle was in his arms, sniffling against his shoulder.

Horrified, he wrapped his arms around her, wondering what he’d done wrong.  "Belle?"

"That’s really, _really_ sweet of you,” she told him, her voice croaky.

“I thought it might help.”  He relaxed when it became clear she wasn’t upset with him and stroked her hair, loving the way her curls twined around his fingers.

“She’ll love the sloth.”

“And I’ll even sign my own name to this card,” he promised.

Belle rewarded his small joke with a smile.  "I gave her the orchids out of my bouquet.  Is that okay?"

"They’re yours to do with as you please.”  Perhaps the next time he bought Belle flowers he could purchase a small nosegay for Grace as well.

With a sigh, she squeezed him tighter before releasing him.  "Do I smell burgers?"

"With extra pickles.”  Gallantly, he escorted her to the back where he’d left their lunch on the work table.

“You always remember.”  

When Gold pulled out Belle’s chair for her, she made no move to sit down, gazing at him with an expression he couldn’t read.  "You’re looking at me."

"I am,” she agreed as she took her seat without breaking eye contact.

“Is there a reason for that?”  Her silent scrutiny wasn’t entirely comfortable.  He didn’t feel judged or threatened by Belle’s steady gaze, but it was hard to resist the urge to squirm or pull a face to break the tension of the moment.

“You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Gold sat down with a thump at her words.  Since he was a novice in these matters, he would have been perfectly happy just to hear her say that he was an acceptable boyfriend.  Hearing that he had somehow managed to surpass all of her previous relationships was more than he could comprehend.

Belle’s lips quirked in a small smile as he stared at her, his vaunted word-smithing abilities deserting him.  "I really _like_ you, Nachton.  I just wanted to tell you that."

The way she said the words made them sound more meaningful than if she’d declared her love.  Love could be a blind and stupid thing, but this was different.  Belle was fully aware of his quirks and flaws and she liked him in spite of them.

It was possible that she liked him _because_ of those things.  Belle saw him— the real him— and she liked him.

"I like you too,” he rasped, his throat so tight that he could barely force the words out.  

Since he was in love with her, it didn’t seem like the words should be enough, but he felt the import of them as they hung in the air between them.  In his fifty-two years, Gold had genuinely liked very few people— his aunties, Bae, and now Belle.  It was likely that Belle was less of a miser with her own feelings, but that didn’t matter.  What mattered was that she liked him, and that would be a solid foundation for everything else that he hoped they would build.

As he gazed at Belle, he became aware that he had a silly smile on his face, but Belle was smiling too, so that made it okay.  She liked him, and she thought he was the best boyfriend she’d ever had.  No matter how eager he was to explore his Valentine’s Day present with her, those words were the best gift he’d ever received.

Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t as pointless as he’d originally thought.


	23. Chapter 23

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Belle apologized the moment Gold opened the front door for her.

Since this time she’d texted him to let him know she was behind schedule, he felt no irritation at her tardiness, but there was no reason to let her know that.  Affecting his most long-suffering expression, he sighed.  "I’ve come to expect it."

Belle stuck her tongue out at him as she slipped past him, poking him in the side on her way into the house.  "If you promise not to be a miserable grouch, I might have a surprise for you.”

“I never make promises I know I won’t keep,” he said drily to cover his flash of curiosity as to what sort of surprise she might have for him.  

He had a surprise for her as well, but now that the moment had come to give it to her, Gold was having second thoughts.  Yesterday, when Belle first saw the key to the library that was her Valentine’s Day present, she’d misidentified it as a key to his house, and that had given him ideas.  He’d stopped at the hardware store on his way home that afternoon to have a duplicate key made for her, but he wasn’t sure he would have the nerve to actually offer it to her.  

Since they’d kissed in the diner, they were already an official couple in the eyes of Storybrooke, but even with his lack of experience, Gold knew that exchanging keys was a major step in a relationship.  As far as he was concerned, Belle could move in tomorrow, but she might not be ready to move as quickly.

Belle sniffed the air.  "Something smells good."

"Now I know why you were late.  You were ensuring that dinner would be ready by the time you got here, so you wouldn’t be required to help.”  Gold noticed that she kept her purse with her as he escorted her to the kitchen, although she left her overnight bag by the stairs.

“Guilty!” Belle chirped.  "Did it work?"

"No.”  She’d requested cooking lessons, and he wouldn’t deny her.  Besides, it was almost as much fun to cook with Belle as it was to verbally spar with her.

“There’s asparagus to clean,” he said in his most severe voice as he led her to the colander of freshly washed vegetables.

“They look plenty clean to me,” Belle opined after poking one of the spears with her finger.

“Like this.”  Taking a spear in both hands, he demonstrated how to bend it so the fibrous part of the stalk would snap off, leaving the tender stem behind.

As he’d mostly expected, Belle managed to snap the first two stems completely in half before she caught on to the fact that she needed to bend the spears slowly and gently so the break would form naturally.  Once she’d mastered the technique, she crowed with delight.  "Look at me, I’m doing it!  This is easy!"

"You’re on your way to becoming a master chef.”  It wasn’t that Belle was incompetent in the kitchen.  She was simply impatient, a quality he’d come to find rather endearing.  

Of course, she was showing quite a lot of patience for him as he fumbled his way through this relationship, so he probably shouldn’t judge her too harshly.  It was possible that she’d used up her entire store of patience in refraining from smacking him upside the head while she waited for him to notice that they were dating, leaving none left for minor things like cracking eggs and cleaning asparagus.

Between the two of them, they made short work of the vegetables, leaving Belle looking eagerly for the next task.  "Now what?"

"Now we roll them in olive oil… Just a little,” he cautioned as he passed her the bottle.

She splashed more than necessary on the asparagus and his countertop, but this wasn’t an exact science.  "Salt and pepper."

When he took a sturdy pinch of sea salt from the box and sprinkled it over the asparagus from a foot of height to ensure even coverage, Belle watched with wide eyes.  "You look like one of the chefs on TV.”

He’d done nothing special, but her admiration made his cheeks heat.  "Now I know what I’ll do if the shop goes under: start a cooking show— _Cooking With Gold_."

Belle stepped back as he pulled the rack of lamb out of the oven to rest while the asparagus roasted.  ” _The Golden Gourmet_ ,“ she suggested.

"Much better.  You can be my sous chef.”  It was impossible to think of doing any activity that didn’t involve her in some capacity.  

“That can be the show’s concept: If Belle can do it, so can you!”  She positioned herself at his elbow to watch as he made a tent of aluminum foil to protect the lamb as it rested.

With nothing more to do now that the asparagus was in the oven, he turned to her.  "I taught you a new skill, and I didn’t grouch at you.  Have I earned my surprise?"

"You certainly did!”  Belle leaned up to kiss him on the cheek before fetching her purse.

“This is why I was late,” she explained as she pulled a piece of folded construction paper out of her bag and handed it to him.

His hands recognized what he was holding before his eyes did.  No child had made him a card since he lost Bae, but holding such a thing felt as familiar as breathing.  Throat tight at the flood of memories, he looked down and blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus on what Grace had made for him instead of being haunted by memories from the past.

On the front of the card, a multi-colored sloth was riding a unicorn across a glittery rainbow, and the glitter stuck to his fingers as he opened the card to read what she’d written inside: _Thank you!  Happy Valentine’s Day!_

“She _loved_ your present.”  Belle slipped her arm through his so she could see the card too.  "She wanted to make you a valentine to say thanks, and I had to wait for her to get it just right."

"I’m glad.”  If his gift had cheered the little girl up, that was thanks enough for him, but the homemade card was a nice gesture.  

The artwork on the front had obviously been inspired by his purchases, and it had a surprising amount of detail.  The Louvre wouldn’t be displaying this card any time soon, but the drawing was quite sophisticated for an eight year old.  "She’s a very good artist."

Belle beamed at his praise of her niece.  "Isn’t she?  I was thinking maybe we could find her an art class in Boston.  She’ll like that even if she doesn’t make any new friends.”

“And it will do her good to meet other children who enjoy art.”  Perhaps that was part of Grace’s problem.  The masses tended not to like those who stood out.  If the little girl’s talent significantly outshone her peers, they might be singling her out socially to tear her back down to their level.

“Exactly.”  Belle gave him a nudge.  "And she wants to know when you’re going to come to the school to look at your interview.  They’re on display through the end of the month."

"She _wants_ me to come to her school?”  Grace had told him the papers would be on display, but he’d considered her words more informational than invitational.

“Of course!  She wants you to see the picture she drew of you.”  

Considering the level of skill on display in his Valentine’s Day card, Gold was suddenly very curious to see her likeness of him.  "I’m sure I can find some time next week."

The way she squeezed his arm assured Gold that he’d said the correct thing, and that gave him the confidence to take the new key out of his pocket.  "I have something for you too.”

She giggled at the sight of it.  "Another library?"

"A key to my place,” he corrected her, stealing her choice of wording from yesterday.

Belle’s mouth opened in an O as she closed her fingers around the key.  "I didn’t guilt you into this, did I?  It’s just that I didn’t know about the library, so when you handed me a key, I jumped to conclusions.  I’m totally okay with knocking and waiting for you to let me in."

"Your guess simply prompted me to reach a conclusion I would have eventually reached on my own,” he assured her.  "It’s only practical that you have a key to the house.  If I lock myself out, you can let me in, and if I slip and knock myself silly in the shower, you can come rescue me before I drown."

She gave him a crooked smile, proving that she wasn’t taking his rationalizations any more seriously than he was.  "Do those things happen often?”

“Past performance doesn’t predict future results.”  He tried to look suitably forlorn.  "I’m a crippled old man, as you know."

Clever fingers found a spot in his ribs that made him yelp when poked with sufficient force.  Belle seemed happy to apply it.  "Oh please.  You move faster with that cane than I do with two good legs.”

“If you didn’t wear such ridiculous shoes, I’m sure you could quicken your pace.”  Since she was a whirlwind _with_ her high heels, he trembled to think how much she could accomplish without them.

“But you have to admit that they do amazing things for my ass.”  Releasing his arm, Belle turned her back and gave her hips a tempting wiggle.

Gold clenched his teeth to keep from wheezing.  "I think the asparagus is done."

Her giggle followed him all the way to the stove where he belatedly realized that he was still clutching Grace’s card.  Not sure where else to put it, he opted to display it like he would have displayed a piece of Bae’s artwork, affixing it to the refrigerator with the magnet that usually secured the weekly shopping list.

As he busied himself with transferring the asparagus, lamb, and potatoes onto serving plates, Belle snapped a picture of Grace’s card.  "I’m going to text her this, so she knows you liked it.”

“Tell her I said thank you.”  

“She wanted to come with me and visit Archimedes.”  Belle smiled as she wrote to her niece, then put her phone back in her bag.

“Perhaps another night.”  Considering how he hoped they would be spending the rest of their evening, it wouldn’t be appropriate for Grace to be there.

“Maybe early next week for dinner?”  Belle jingled her new key.  "I can let myself in now."

It was a good thing that she’d reminded him.  "That’s a key to the kitchen door, not the front.”

“Sneaking me in the back?  Are you ashamed of me, Nachton?”

“Of course not.  I simply wanted to save you the walk from the driveway to the front porch.  The kitchen door is much closer, and…” he trailed off when he realized she was teasing him.

“And the crazy wife I keep locked in the attic is less likely to spot you that way,” he concluded.

“I thought you kept her in the basement.”  Belle’s eyes sparkled with amusement at the game.

“Sometimes she gets out.”  He gestured for her to take the vegetables while he carried the platter with the lamb and potatoes.

As they were placing the dishes on the dining room table, Gold realized he’d forgotten to light the candles.  Embarrassed by his oversight, he went to get a match and nearly fell over his own feet when Belle called after him.  "The kitchen door is better anyway.  That way I can sneak in some morning and surprise you with breakfast in bed.  Maybe eggplant?"

His body jolted at the idea of her surprising him with _that_ some morning, and Gold took a few extra moments to calm his racing heart before he rejoined her.  It wouldn’t do for his hands to shake so badly that he set the entire table on fire.

"You’re an evil minx,” he scolded as he returned to the dining room, feeling less like he was about to keel over.

Belle pouted.  "Does that mean you wouldn’t like it?“

It was utterly untoward to joke about such things, but they weren’t really joking.  These were things that Belle would like to do with him, and she wanted to know if he would like them too.  "I would.  Although I might prefer peaches.”

In the candlelight, it was hard to tell, but Gold thought Belle was blushing.

To his relief, she didn’t continue with that line of conversation once they sat down to eat.  If she had, not only would he have not tasted a single bite of their dinner, but he might well have spontaneously combusted.  Instead, they chatted about the library, speculating about what might need to be done to reopen it.

One thing was certain: this project was going to cost a great deal of money and take a great deal of time, but as long as he and Belle worked on it together, Gold didn’t mind at all.  He had more money than he could ever spend.  He’d might as well use some of it in a productive way.

By the time he brought out the cake, they had a tentative plan of action that was probably going to collapse the moment they discovered that termites had infested the woodwork or the books were moth-eaten or whatever other disaster was going to make this job even bigger and messier than he anticipated.  

Belle lapsed into besotted silence at her first taste of the cake, and Gold derived as much pleasure from watching her as he did from eating his own portion.  He was reasonably sure she would never look at him with that degree of lust, but that might be for the best.  He would never survive the encounter if she did.  

After they finished their meal, she helped him load the dishwasher, the ritual feeling cozily domestic.  It was easy to imagine them spending every night like this, just enjoying each other’s company, no matter what they were doing.  It was easy to have a pleasurable evening while eating an excellent meal, but he’d never dreamed that he would be able to find someone he could laugh with over dirty dishes.

“If you don’t greet Archimedes, he’ll never forgive you.”  The betta hadn’t appreciated being forced to wait an extra day to see Belle, and if she didn’t give him some attention, Gold feared the fish would find a way to take his revenge.

“We can’t have that,” she agreed easily, looping her arm through his for the duration of the short walk.

She smiled at the sight of his book on his desk, but Belle didn’t say anything else about it.  In his tank, Archimedes was all but doing flips of delight as she cooed over him, and Gold stepped back, letting the fish have his moment as the center of Belle’s attention.  It was only fair.  He had the advantage of having both lungs and legs, after all.  He could afford to be generous.

Once she’d made a sufficient fuss over Archimedes, Belle turned away from the fish tank and leaned back against the desk.  "What should we do now?"

Gold hesitated.  He’d thought they had a tacit agreement about how they were going to spend the rest of the evening, but even though he knew Belle had seen the book, she wasn’t acknowledging it now.  Had he misunderstood her intentions?  

"Did you want to… discuss literature?” he hazarded.  

Belle quirked an eyebrow, a small smile playing at her lips.  "What sort of literature would you like to discuss?"

There were three possible answers.  He could give up on his initial plans for the evening and start a conversation about a genre they both enjoyed.  He could volley the ball back into her court by asking what sort of literature _she_ wanted to talk about in hopes that she would mention the book.  Or…

The third possibility required the most courage.  "I received an interesting book yesterday, and I thought we might look at it together.”

Belle beamed at him as she picked up the book.  "That’s a great idea."

If she liked the idea so much, he wasn’t sure why she hadn’t suggested it herself.  "I thought you might have another preference for the evening.”

“I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do,” she assured him.

If that was the case, why hadn’t she mentioned the book?  If she was just being polite, that would be intolerable.  "Because I am at your disposal.  I don’t want you to feel… rushed.“

To his surprise, Belle laughed.  "Nachton, I’ve wanted to bang you since Thanksgiving.  You’re _not_ rushing me.”

“Oh,” he replied intelligently, marveling at the idea that she’d wanted him for so long.  If that was the case, maybe he had nothing to fear.

“Perhaps we should go upstairs?” he suggested.  If last night had taught him anything, it was that Archimedes had a rare talent for ruining the mood.

Belle leaned up for a soft kiss.  "Sounds good to me."

She carried the book while he shouldered her overnight bag.  Once upstairs, it took them a few minutes to sort themselves out, but they’d done this once before, so he had a better idea of how the process of readying themselves for bed worked.  

Eventually, they were seated side-by-side in his bed, Gold clad in blue pajamas while Belle wore green pajamas with little lime green dots that fit snugly enough to make his mouth go dry.

Instinctively, he turned his gaze away, jumping when Belle put her hand on his thigh.  "You’re allowed to look.”

He was being foolish.  Belle had chosen this particular set of pajamas for a reason.  She knew he would be seeing her in them, and she had to know how delectable they made her look.  Therefore, she must want him to look at her like this.

Swallowing hard, Gold allowed himself to look at Belle, taking in her flushed face and tumbled curls.  When she smiled and nodded, giving him explicit permission, his moved his gaze lower, his breath catching at the way the soft material clung to her breasts, the dotted fabric not quite concealing the tight buds of her nipples.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Do you remember my favorite page?” she asked softly.

He couldn’t remember his own name, but he remembered every detail of that page.  "Eighteen."

"Should we try it?”

At his strangled moan, Belle put her hand on his shoulder.  "Lean back."

Feeling like he was watching from outside of his body, Gold leaned back against the headboard, his legs straight out in front of him.  With a tender smile, Belle turned to face him and swung one leg across his body, settling herself lightly on his thighs.

"Put your hands on my waist,” she encouraged.

Helpless to do anything but obey her, Gold did as she asked, trying not to fist his hands in her pajama top.  Belle was on his lap.  They were in his bed, and she was on his lap, and he was already starting to get hard, and they hadn’t even _done_ anything yet.

Fortunately, she’d left enough distance that she shouldn’t be able to feel him stirring.  "Is this okay for your leg?"

"Perfect.”  Did he have a bad leg?  He’d forgotten.

“Good.”  She leaned in to whisper the word against his lips, and Gold moaned at the first brush of her mouth against his.

“That’s it,” she murmured as she cradled his face, helping him tilt his head slightly to the right.  Already, he forgotten everything he’d managed to learn about kissing, but then Belle’s mouth was on his, and his lips remembered what to do.  

He could never get enough of Belle’s mouth.  He loved the texture of her soft, plump lips against his own thinner ones, and the sweet slickness when his tongue slipped just between them.  Her lips were warm, but the line of her teeth was smooth and cool, and that contrast intrigued him, forcing him to return again and again before he dared move deeper into her mouth.  

Belle hummed, and he felt the vibration through his entire body.  Somehow, her pajama top had ridden up even though he was sure he hadn’t moved his hands, and his fingertips were caressing the bare skin at her waist, refusing to stop even when he willed them to.

When Belle pulled away, he was certain she would chide him for his brazen advance, but instead she smiled.  "Keep touching me.  I’m going to touch you too, if that’s okay?"

He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat that she correctly interpreted as agreement.  With a final kiss to the corner of his mouth, Belle sat back a little so she could see what she was doing as she loosely cupped his shoulders.

For a moment, she just gazed at him, making Gold wonder if he was supposed to be saying or doing something.  Then her hands moved lower, Belle touching him with just her fingertips as she stroked slowly down over his chest.

Even though his pajama top, her touch burned, making him hiss as his back arched convulsively, his body seeking to press itself more fully into her hands.  He wasn’t caressing her any more.  Now, he was clutching at her hips, his grip tight, and his arms were shaking with the need to yank her against him.

"I’ve got you,” Belle whispered as she leaned in to brush another kiss against his lax lips.  

Despite his mute pleading, she kept her strokes light and slow as she explored his chest, something for which Gold was deeply grateful.  His body was desperate for more, but if she gave him what he wanted, he would never be able to endure the ecstasy of it.

“Look down.”  At her urging, he lowered his head, watching the way his chest rose and fell with his ragged breath and the way the material of his pajama top moved and flowed around Belle’s fingers as she caressed him.  She was touching him, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Does that feel good?”

He couldn’t believe that she needed to ask.  " _So_ good."

"I like making you feel good,” Belle said sweetly.  

Those words triggered something in the back of his mind that made his stomach drop.  That wasn’t what this was about.  Belle didn’t exist to make him feel good.  Pleasure was something they should share, and he wasn’t doing his part.

He must have moved or made some kind of noise because Belle immediately sat back, putting more distance between them.  "It’s okay.  Talk to me, Nachton."

"I don't… _You_ don't… don’t have to pleasure me.  I should…”  The words were a garbled mess, his thoughts so tangled that he couldn’t make enough sense of them in his own head to convey them to Belle.

“I thought I was pleasuring _us_ ,” she chided him gently.  "I liked what we were doing.  Did you like it?"

"Yes, but…”

“No.”  She put one finger over his lips to silence him.  "If we both like it, there’s no problem.  Don’t try to find one."

It couldn’t really be that simple, but try as he might, Gold could find no hole in Belle’s logic.  She was enjoying herself.  He was enjoying himself.  That was… good.

Belle waited patiently while he thought the matter though, then she kissed the tip of his nose.  "If I ever _don’t_ like something, I will tell you.  I’d appreciate it if you would do the same for me.  There aren’t any rules when it comes to this, Nachton.  The only rule is that we both have to like it.  If that’s true, we’re golden.”

She smiled smugly at her pun, inviting him to share the joke.  

He took a deep breath, feeling less fraught.  "I’ll try to remember that."

That was the difference between himself and his father, Gold told himself.  He cared about Belle’s pleasure, while his father had only cared about his own.  As long as that was true, he would never be like Malcolm.

With some chagrin, he admitted to himself that Belle probably had a far better idea what gave her pleasure than he did.  If she claimed to like something, she was almost certainly telling the truth.  There would be less than no point in lying about such a thing, and she’d never pulled any punches with him before.

She was enjoying this.  So was he.  They were fine.

He’d ruined the mood as thoroughly as Archimedes had yesterday, but Gold found that he wasn’t willing to admit defeat.  They had all night, after all.  

He cleared his throat.  "It occurs to me that what we were doing wasn’t exactly what was on page eighteen.”

“We’ll call it a variation.”  A dimple appeared in Belle’s cheek to punctuate her hopeful smile.  "I can think of a few other variations.  If you’d like to try them?"

If one of those variations involved her touching his bare skin, he was highly in favor of it.  If another involved him touching _her_ …

"I’d like that very much.”  He could hear the naked honesty in his own voice.

Belle rested her forehead against his.  "Me too.“

"In that case…”  He took a deep breath and tried to sound seductive, “Shall we continue?”

His voice cracked halfway through the question, but Belle didn’t so much as giggle.  "I thought you’d never ask."


	24. Chapter 24

Belle rubbed her nose against his.  "I said I had some other variations in mind.  Did _you_ have anything you wanted to suggest?"

Gold caught his breath at her generous offer.  From the tone of her voice, he could ask for _anything_ right now, and Belle would at least consider it.  The problem was that he didn’t have the slightest idea what to ask for.

"What would you like, Nachton?  What would make you feel good?”  Her voice was low and persuasive, all but begging him to share his fantasies with her.

Until now, Gold had prided himself on his refusal to fantasize about Belle.  She was a person in her own right with an inner world as complex as his own, not an object to be used to give himself pleasure.  That knowledge was what separated him from his father.  Even when she gave him permission to think of her in such a way, he hadn’t quite been able to overcome his own scruples.

That put him at a disadvantage now.

Although he had no practical experience in these matters, he was well-read and possessed an active imagination.  Unfortunately, that imagination was useless since he hadn’t allowed himself to exercise it.  If he’d pictured a moment like this, he would have told himself that it would be unseemly to make any demands on Belle.  He would take whatever she wanted to give him and consider himself the luckiest man in the world.  

Now that he was actually experiencing that moment, Gold could see the flaw in his logic.  Yes, it would be wrong to demand something from Belle that she wasn’t eager to give, but it was also wrong to expect her to do all of the work.  She’d been leading him by the hand for months.  The least he could do was attempt to meet her halfway.

Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on Belle’s question.  What would make him feel good?

Once he reassured himself that it wasn’t selfish to think about such a thing if Belle wanted to know, a thousand possible answers flooded his mind.  It would make him feel good to crush Belle to his chest and claim her mouth.  It would make him feel good to wrap himself around her and bury his face against her throat so he could breathe her in.  It would make him feel good to feel his bare skin against hers.

When the last idea made his heart skip a beat, Gold knew that he had his answer.  Swallowing hard, he reached up to unbutton his pajama top, holding Belle’s gaze as he did.  Dressing and undressing were automatic actions that required no thought, but undoing his buttons while she watched was a monumental undertaking, his hands shaking so badly that he could barely manage the task.

“I like your idea,” Belle murmured when he faltered, her compliment giving him the courage to press on until his fumbling fingers had undone every button.

Gold felt his face heat as Belle looked down at his bare chest.  He was sucking in his stomach as much as he could, but he was painfully aware of the softness around his middle and the threads of silver in his sparse chest hair.  

“I know I’m not much to look at.”  He tried to sound careless and self-deprecating and almost managed it.

Her sharp blue gaze returned to his face, searching his eyes before Belle’s expression softened.  With an indulgent smile, she leaned in to nip lightly at the line of his jaw.  "Don’t fish for compliments.  We both know you’re a sexy beast."

"I’m not—”

Her eyebrows arched, silently daring him to finish that sentence, and Gold quickly swallowed his denial of her words.  Whatever his intentions, implying that she was a liar was not a wise idea.  

“…not sure I’ve ever been called that before.”  It wasn’t a brilliant course correction, but it was better than nothing.

“Maybe not to your face.”  Belle’s smile turned wicked.  "I’m sure that anyone who’s seen your fantastic ass has thought it though."

At that, he made a truly embarrassing squeaking noise that made him sound more like a gerbil than any other kind of beast— sexy or not.  Mercifully, Belle pretended not to hear it.  

She ran one finger down the center of his chest, following the digit with her gaze.  "I like how you look, Nachton.  Get used to it.”

If she’d cosseted him and tried to soothe away his insecurities with tender words, he would have felt patronized, but Belle’s blunt appreciation for his body short-circuited his doubts.  There was no need for her to dress her sentiments up in pretty words; their honesty was beautiful enough.  She thought he was sexy— a sexy beast, no less— and he could take her at her word or not.

Even he wasn’t stupid enough to keep arguing.  Letting out his breath, Gold stopped trying to suck in his stomach and allowed himself to relax.  Belle was still looking at him, but she liked what she saw.  If that was the case, it didn’t matter what he thought of his body.

He squirmed when she dipped her finger into his navel, and she smiled in delight.  "Are you ticklish?"

"Perhaps a bit.”  If he denied it, she would only be more driven to prove him wrong.

Belle bit her lip to try to suppress her smile.  "I’ll remember that for later."

"Alternately, you could choose to forget about it,” he suggested, with no real hope that she would agree.

She pouted.  "Where’s the fun in that?"

To prove her point, she pressed her fingertips against his sides, making him brace himself for a ticklish assault.  Instead, she slowly drew her fingers inwards and up, carding them over his chest to his throat in a sweeping caress.  "See?  Fun.”

If that was how she defined tickling, she could tickle him twenty hours a day.  "I agree."

She repeated her caress, this time in reverse, sweeping her fingers down until she could squeeze his hips, pulling his pajama top open further.  "Very nice,” she murmured as she gazed at him.  

Instinctively, Gold arched his back just a little, displaying himself for her.  Belle took advantage of his open posture to explore his chest more fully, mapping every inch of him with light strokes as she combed her fingers over his torso.  

She was barely touching him, but it was all Gold could do not to moan at her ministrations.  For no reason he could understand, the brush of her fingers against certain patches of skin made his entire body jolt while her touches in other places felt merely pleasant.  The spot just beneath his left clavicle made sweat bead along his hairline, and the area just below his navel made him grind his teeth to suppress a groan.

He didn’t realize how careful she was being to avoid his nipples until she grazed her fingers over them, and the shock of sensation went straight to his cock like a bolt of lightning.  Belle was sitting far enough back on his thighs not to feel it, but if she looked down, she would be able to see him stirring.  He couldn’t begin to guess what her reaction to that sight might be.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it either.  All Belle was doing was touching his chest.  She’d said nothing about the possibility of consummating their relationship tonight, so getting an erection seemed presumptuous.  She’d once told him that she liked feeling him pressed against her, but that was while they were fully dressed in the shop.  In a more intimate setting, she might assume that he was expecting certain things from her.

Even though she was drawing little circles around his nipples with her index finger, Gold barely felt the touch, too lost in his own worries to appreciate her caress.  He was so distracted that it took him a moment to realize that Belle had stopped touching him.

“If you want to stop, all you have to do is say so.  I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do,” she said softly.

The realization that he’d made her feel unwanted made his stomach twist.  "It’s not that."

Belle seemed to accept that on faith.  She rested her hands on his forearms and nodded at him to continue, her expression open.  "Then what is it?  I can tell you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“I’m enjoying myself too much,” he muttered.

Try as he might, there seemed to be no socially acceptable way to tell her that he was concerned she would be offended by his erection.  Instead, Gold lowered his head to look pointedly at the tented front of his pajama bottoms, willing her to follow both his gaze and his train of thought.

She looked down when he did, her face completely neutral.  "You’re getting hard.  Is that a problem?"

Her matter-of-fact acceptance made the situation feel less fraught.  "I thought it might be a problem for you.  I don’t want you to think that I'm… expecting anything.”

Realization dawned in Belle’s eyes, followed almost immediately by a snicker.  "Something like eggplant?" she suggested.

"Something of that nature.”  Since he already knew about the eggplant and the peach, Gold wondered if there were other suggestive specimens of produce of which he should be aware.

“Oh, Nachton.”  Belle brushed her fingers over the side of his face.  "I like knowing that I’m turning you on.  That turns _me_ on."

Her voice dropped as she leaned a little closer.  "Besides… I doubt that you could expect anything that I wouldn’t be game for.”

Gold caught his breath at the promise implicit in her words.  If the brief look he’d gotten at his new book had taught him anything, it was that sex was a wide-open country and he’d barely skirted the borders.  The knowledge that Belle was willing to take the journey with him made him feel more like a bold adventurer and less like a clumsy novice.

“Anything?” he asked, his voice shaking.

Her eyes sparkled.  "Well, if you want to get _really_ kinky, we might need to negotiate first, but basically anything."

He wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or intrigued by what Belle might consider ‘really kinky.’  Either way, there was no way he was ready to find out.  He had to learn how to walk before he could run.  

There was no better time than the present to learn.  "In that case… may I touch you?”

“Of course you can.”  Her smile told him that she was pleased with his initiative.

Even though she’d given him permission, Gold didn’t have the slightest idea where to start.  Hesitantly, he rested his hands on her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin through the silky material of her pajama top.  From there, he slowly ran his hands down her arms, finding her skin even softer than the fabric.

Enchanted by the feel of her, he repeated his action, his fingers finding gooseflesh on her arms.  "Are you cold?"

He hated to end their activities so soon, but if Belle was uncomfortable, her needs had to come first.  Perhaps he could turn up the heat even though he felt like he was dangerously close to melting.

She shook her head.  "It feels good.  Sometimes I get goosebumps when I get excited.”

He sucked in a breath of shock at her explanation.  Far from being cold, Belle’s body was demonstrating that she enjoyed his touch.  It was a physical reaction that couldn’t be faked, incontrovertible proof that he was pleasing her.

His hands shook as he stroked her arms, loving the feel of the goosebumps.  If this was how Belle felt when his body hardened at her touch, he could understand why she wasn’t offended when he grew erect.  That tell-tale response was a greater compliment than any words could ever pay, and he felt an absurd surge of pride even though he’d barely done anything to deserve it.

With more confidence, he wrapped his hand loosely around the side of Belle’s throat so he could stroke her jaw with his thumb.  Under his fingers, he could feel the rush of her breath and the beat of her pulse, those markers of life highlighting just how fragile she actually was.  Under his hand, she felt almost impossibly delicate, yet she was strong enough to turn his entire world upside down.

He was tempted to replace his hand with his mouth and drink in the warmth of her skin, but he wasn’t quite brave enough yet to take that step.  Instead, he trailed his fingers lower, tracing the neckline of her pajama top down to the point it formed just above her breasts before moving up the other side.

Belle laughed breathlessly.  "You’re such a tease."

Gold paused, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad one.  Belle’s face was flushed, and she was breathing a little faster than before, which he considered positive signs, but he’d been wrong about things before.  "I didn’t mean to be.”

He found himself unsure of what to do next.  His inclination was to follow the example that Belle had set for him, but that might not be appropriate.  It was one thing for her to comb her fingers over his chest, but it seemed like a far bigger step for him to touch her breasts.

Before he could decide how to proceed, Belle made the decision for him.  Taking hold of his wrist, she held his gaze as she guided his hand to her breast, holding it in place when he instinctively flinched back.  

“Oh,” he breathed, unable to think of anything more intelligent to say.  For months, he’d barely allowed himself to _think_ about Belle’s breasts, and now he was touching them.

When she released his wrist, Gold remained frozen in place as he sought to memorize everything about this moment.  Her breast filled his hand, so soft and warm that he could scarcely believe it.  He squeezed gently, trying to verify his first impression, and Belle sighed as she arched her back, pushing herself more firmly against his hand.

Encouraged, he squeezed again, then slowly started to explore, his fingertips mapping every millimeter of her.  As he touched, a hard nub bloomed to life under his fingers, and Gold nearly swallowed his tongue when he realized what he was feeling.

Belle groaned in the back of her throat as he ran his fingers over her nipple, and the sound went through him like a jolt of electricity.  He was making her feel good, and that knowledge made him feel like a god.

“You have two hands,” she reminded him, and his mind nearly shorted out.

He filled his hands with her breasts, cupping each of them as he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, his gaze darting between Belle’s bright eyes and panting lips and the sight of his hands on her chest.  He was blind to everything but her, deaf to any sound save for her sighs and moans.  Belle filled his world, and wanted it to be that way always.

Long before he was ready to stop, Belle took hold of his wrists.  "It’s my turn."

Reluctantly, he removed his hands from her body, his sacrifice rewarded when she leaned forward and pressed her lips against the base of his throat.  Belle used her hold on his wrists to guide his hands to her head, and Gold buried his fingers in her hair, calling on all of his self-control to keep from tugging or pulling when she started to kiss her way across his chest.

He chewed on his tongue as she found the spot just below his left clavicle that had made him sweat when she brushed it with her fingers.  The touch of her lips was even more intense, and when she laved it with the flat of her tongue, his cock surged into full, aching readiness.

"You’re very stoic,” Belle murmured, her lips moving against his skin.

“Hmm?” he managed, his brain feeling sluggish.

“Is there a reason you’re being so quiet?”  The direct question gave him pause.

“It's… unseemly.”  Listening to him grunt like an animal would hardly thrill her.

“Noises are _hot_ ,” Belle corrected.  "You liked it when I moaned for you, didn’t you?"

"Oh yes.”  Just the memory of it was enough to make his breath come faster.

She lifted her head just long enough to give him a pointed look, then held his gaze as she leaned down and very deliberately ran her tongue over his nipple.

The feel of it was electrifying, the sight overwhelming.  He let out a garbled cry that even he couldn’t understand as his hips bucked instinctively.  Belle tightened her grip on him, holding him in place as she repeated the trick on his other nipple, and Gold gave up on maintaining any semblance of sanity.  Instead, he gave himself over to the flood of sensation as Belle moved back and forth, first licking, then nibbling, as he ground the back of his head into the headboard, gasping pleas and curses at her erotic torment.

He was so hard that he was throbbing.  Never in his life could Gold remember feeling such an urgent need for release.  Belle, perhaps sensing his mounting desperation, took pity on him and eased off, her lips leaving his nipples to map other, less sensitive, areas.

“Belle…. Oh, _Belle_ …”  He wound handfuls of her hair around his fingers, comforted by having at least one part of his body fully engulfed by her.

“Do you want more?”  When she lifted her head, her face was flushed, her eyes dark.

“I…”  Gold didn’t know what he wanted.  He longed for her to push him over the edge, but he wanted just as badly to remain in this moment with her for the rest of his life.  This was the most glorious experience he’d ever had, and he didn’t want it to end.

“You’re not ready.  It’s okay,” she assured him, reading something into his indecision that he hadn’t known was there.

She sat back a little and stroked her hands over his chest and arms, the touch grounding him and soothing him.  As she caressed him, his muscles relaxed, the arousal still there but less desperate.

With some effort, he managed to loosen his grip on her hair, his fingers nearly cramping.  Briefly, he feared that he’d hurt her, but Belle hadn’t expressed any displeasure at his touch.  

“Better?” she asked once his breathing had slowed to something approaching normal.

When he nodded, she leaned in to brush a tender kiss against his lips.  "Do you want to stop or keep going?"

That was probably the only question he knew the answer to.  "I don’t want to stop.”

Her brilliant smile assured him that he’d given the right answer, but all she said was, “I’m hot.”

An instant later, she pulled her pajama top off, her hair fluffing wildly around her face, and Gold made another gerbil noise as he kept his eyes focused strictly on her bare shoulder, refusing to let his gaze wander.

Warm hands cradled his face.  "You’re allowed to look, Nachton.  I _want_ you to look.  That’s why I took my top off."

He could hear the smile in her voice, but he couldn’t move his gaze from her shoulder.  Much as her action had taken him by surprise, he probably wouldn’t have been any more ready had she given him a week to prepare himself.  

He was allowed to look, he reminded himself.  Belle wanted him to look.  

Still feeling like he was doing something illicit, he moved only his eyes, running his gaze over her collarbone where he lingered until he remembered how to breathe.  Only then did he allow himself to shift his eyes lower, a strangled moan escaping his throat at his first sight of her bare chest.

Her breasts were as delicate as the rest of her, small and lovely and perfectly shaped with dusky pink nipples that he longed to taste.  Although he’d touched her through her pajama top, the thought of laying his hand on her bare skin felt almost unbearably intimate.  Instead, he drank her in with his eyes, admiring her for the masterpiece that she was.  

"You’re so beautiful… so beautiful… so soft and lovely… so _beautiful_ , Belle…”  It wasn’t poetry, but it was all he could manage, his senses overwhelmed by her sheer perfection.  

Belle smiled as she brushed her thumb over his lips.  "Touch me, Nachton."

He held his breath as he reached out, sighing when came into contact with her for the first time with nothing between them.  As slowly and carefully as he could, Gold cradled her breasts and let out a sigh that was nearly a sob as he felt her impossible softness against his callused fingertips.

For long moments, all he could do was stare at the sight of his hand on her breast.  Her skin was as smooth and pale as cream in contrast to his own, browned and weathered by years of work.  They belonged in two different worlds, yet Belle welcomed his touch.  She’d deemed him worthy of her.

"Sweetheart…” The endearment was hoarse and ragged as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, repeating the caress that had pleased her before.

“My darling Belle.”  He was dangerously close to declaring his love for her, and he swallowed the words in favor of concentrating on Belle’s quiet moans as he touched her.  

She slid her fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and Gold went willingly, too enraptured to even feel nervous as he pressed a kiss to the swell of her breast.  Belle groaned, her grip tightening, and that was encouragement enough for him.  

He lavished her with kisses, feeling wild and free, all of his usual worries left somewhere far behind.  Unthinkingly, he drew up his knees as he splayed his hands over her back to pull her closer to him, the warm weight of her settling against his aching groin.

The pressure was warm and sweet, comforting him in a way that he couldn’t begin to put into words.  Their bodies were pressed together intimately, and that was right.  Any distance between them was an abomination.  

His lips found her nipple, the contrast between the tight bud and the softness of her breast fascinating him.  He strayed from that place only to return again and again, Belle’s moans sounding like music.  She was soft and sweet against his lips, and this was the most glorious moment of his entire life.

Gold didn’t realize he was crying until Belle wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against the top of his head as she held him close.  "It’s all right, Nachton."

Her reassurance was unnecessary since he wasn’t the least bit upset.  He was simply overwhelmed in the same way someone might be by hearing a masterfully performed symphony or viewing an exquisite work of art.  He’d reached the pinnacle of existence, and now that he was here, he realized that this was only the first step.  This was just the beginning of what he and Belle could have together.

Not knowing how to put his thoughts into words, Gold lifted his head from her breasts to look into her face, hoping she could see his awe and joy.  "You’re perfect.”

“You’re pretty amazing yourself.”  She leaned forward to kiss him, her tongue stroking tenderly against his own.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she pulled back just a little, seemingly content to remain pressed against him.

With the warmth of her body to soothe him, his cock was starting to soften, the tension ebbing from his muscles.  Despite the lack of physical completion, he’d never felt more content in his life.  "I’ve never felt better."

"We didn’t go too far?” she pressed, and her concern for his mental state warmed him.

“It was perfect.”  If they’d done less, it wouldn’t have been enough, but if they’d gone any farther, it would have been too much.  

“Good.”  She brushed another kiss against his lips.  

They held each other until Gold’s leg finally started to protest.  Only then did Belle climb off of his lap, expressing no self-consciousness about being nude from the waist up.  

“We didn’t look at your book.”  It was still resting on the nightstand where she’d put it earlier, and Belle smiled as she ran her fingers over the cover.

“Tomorrow is another day.”  They’d only experimented with one page out of the entire book, and that thought made him feel a little faint.

Belle picked up her pajama top from where she’d discarded it at the side of the bed.  "Should I put this back on?"

He wondered if this was some sort of test.  "I’d rather you didn’t.”

If it was a test, apparently he passed because Belle beamed as she tossed the top to the floor.  "Suits me."

He shrugged off his own open pajama top before lying down, his breath catching when Belle moved to pillow her head against his shoulder, the feel of her bare skin thrilling him.  "So, did you enjoy your belated Valentine’s Day?”

Leave it to her to remind him of the holiday.

After what they'd just shared, he was inclined to let her get away with it.  "Best one I’ve ever had."

Belle snuggled a little closer.  "Me too.”


	25. Chapter 25

Gold strolled through the hallways of Storybrooke Elementary, glancing down at the visitor identification badge clipped to the lapel of his jacket.  Gaining access to the school was only slightly less complicated than visiting a prison, a fact that didn’t sit right with him.  Fortunately, after years of living in one of his properties, the school’s secretary knew him well enough not to consider denying him entry, although she’d insisted he display the badge even though it ruined the effect of his suit.

The interviews produced by Grace’s third grade class were on display in the school’s front hallway, but he passed them by without a second glance.  There was no point in visiting the school if Grace didn’t even know he was there, so he’d gotten directions to her classroom from Belle before he left the shop on this errand.  After a detour to wave at the little girl from her classroom’s doorway, he’d inspect her handiwork and be on his way back to Belle in ten minutes.

As always, the thought of Belle made his stomach flip over, but Gold did his best not to think about the glorious night they’d spent exploring each other’s upper bodies.  An elementary school was no place to indulge in such memories.  That was something better suited for the shop, preferably with Belle within easy reach.

The school was laid out in a logical manner, allowing him to find Grace’s classroom with little difficulty.  As he looked through the glass panel in the closed door, he found himself making eye contact with the teacher, a young woman with dark hair who rented a two bedroom flat on Maple Drive.  Although his initial impulse was to scowl at her, he did his best to keep his expression neutral as he nodded acknowledgement.  There was no point in antagonizing a woman who played such a large role in Grace’s life, even if he wasn’t impressed with her classroom management.

Once the teacher stepped out of the way, he spotted Grace, the little girl’s head bent over her desk as she colored something with a red crayon.  A few other heads popped up like meerkats, the children goggling at the sight of him, and the commotion finally attracted Grace’s attention.  

Belle’s niece smiled widely, displaying her missing teeth, and she dropped her crayon to wave at him.  With a small smile, Gold waved back as he inspected the other children out of the corner of his eye, wondering which of them were the ones who were singling out Grace.

Since he had no idea who the ringleaders were, he settled for sweeping a baleful look over everyone who wasn’t Grace before giving the girl another wave and going about his business.

It took next to no time for him to retrace his steps to the school’s main corridor, and this time he paid closer attention to the papers hanging on the walls.  The students had secured interviews with most of the upstanding members of the town, and he amused himself by skimming over their answers before he found his own interview hanging near the entrance to the building.

As promised by the other pieces of her artwork that he’d seen, Grace’s portrait of him displayed genuine talent.  She’d used a distressing amount of silver when coloring his hair, but the face in the picture was recognizably his own, his expression friendlier than he would have expected.  Although she’d included the lines around his eyes and mouth, she’d made them look like smile lines, giving his face a pleasant look even though his mouth was depicted without the barest hint of a curve.

Gold nodded in satisfaction, pleased by the glimpse he’d gotten of himself as viewed through Grace’s eyes.  Four months ago, she’d been terrified of him, but if this picture was anything to go by, she no longer saw him as a monster.  Belle would be delighted.

He stepped back to admire the picture from another angle, frowning when he noticed something he hadn’t seen before.  A large A- was written on the top of the paper in red ink, a grade that Gold considered completely unjustified.

Glancing at several of the other interviews hanging nearby, he mentally compared Grace’s work to that of her classmates.  The students who’d interviewed Mary Margaret Nolan and Sheriff Graham had both received A’s for their work even though the mayor’s portrait had forgotten to give her a nose, and the sheriff appeared to be suffering from a bad case of lycanthropy in his.  Grace’s art was far superior, and yet she’d received a lower grade.

Clearly, a mistake had been made in grading, and he was trying to decide whether to take the matter up with Grace’s teacher first or save time by going directly to the superintendent when the woman in question came hurrying down the hall.

“Was there something you wanted to see me about, Mr. Gold?”

Her voice squeaked a little on the question, betraying her nerves, and Gold made no effort to reassure her as he turned a disapproving look on her.  "Perhaps you could explain your grading criteria to me."

The teacher followed his pointed gaze to the A- on Grace’s paper.  "Grace did an excellent job.  I just had to deduct a few points since she didn’t get complete answers to all of the questions.”

He raised a glacial eyebrow.  "The answers look complete to me."

"There’s the matter of her subject’s full name.  Also, I was hoping for more detail.”  The teacher was careful not to call attention to the fact that he had been the subject of Grace’s interview.

Gold had no such compunctions.  "I answered the questions in as much detail as I considered appropriate, and Grace faithfully transcribed my responses."

"I can only grade based on the work submitted.”  The teacher’s professional smile flickered a little as Gold stared at her.

“So, you’re penalizing the girl for respecting my privacy.  How interesting.”

Gold allowed the silence to stretch out, becoming awkward.  In his experience, saying nothing was often the most effective threat of all.  Without a clue as to his thoughts, the other person’s mind would be working overtime, suggesting an endless variety of possible outcomes to the encounter, none of them good.

Soon enough, the teacher caved to the silent pressure.  "You make a valid point."

She pulled a pen out of her pocket and added a downstroke to the grade on Grace’s paper, turning the A- into an A+.

"Was there anything else?” she asked, clearly eager to flee back to her classroom.

When he came here, he’d had no intention of confronting the woman about how she was handling the situation with Grace and her classmates, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, he was inclined to take it.  If nothing else, it would behoove her to know that Grace was under his protection so she could act accordingly.  If protecting a young girl’s feelings wasn’t enough to motivate her to take action, perhaps her sense of self-preservation would.

“I have some serious concerns about your classroom dynamics.  Particularly those surrounding Grace French and Valentine’s Day.”  He kept his voice even, letting the unspoken threat remain understated.

Instead of quelling under the weight of his disapproval, the teacher stood up straighter.  "It would be inappropriate for me to discuss a matter of discipline with a member of the public."

Her rebuttal took him aback.  His position in Grace’s life was informal, giving him no leverage to press for answers.  As far as the school was concerned, he was just another member of the public.

The teacher took advantage of his moment of consternation.  "If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my students.”

She stumbled as she turned to walk away, betraying that she wasn’t as calm as she was pretending to be, but it didn’t matter.  He’d lost this round, and that didn’t sit well with Gold.

He mulled over the matter as he turned in his visitor badge at the office and left the building.  His confrontation with Grace’s teacher had revealed that he had little influence in the school district, a matter that had never bothered him before.  Now, however, he had a vested interest in the daily happenings at Storybrooke Elementary but no way to shape events to his liking.

When he was raising Bae, Gold had always intended to join the PTA when the boy started school.  However, he wasn’t Grace’s parent; that was Jefferson’s domain.  Not that it mattered.  Even if he was a parent, the last three decades had taught him to think bigger than merely joining the Parent-Teacher Association.

Perhaps he should run for a position on the school board.

Until now, Gold had preferred to work behind the scenes to make sure that things in Storybrooke were developing as he wished, and his strategy had served him well.  Running for public office was a more direct approach than he was comfortable with, but it might be necessary to ensure that Grace was getting the educational experience that she deserved.

“Welcome back!”  Belle smiled at him from behind the counter as he stepped into the shop.  

“You missed nothing while you were gone.  Did you see Grace?”  She held out her hands to indicate that everything in shop was unchanged since he’d left.

“We waved.  She seemed pleased to see me.”  Gold claimed a quick kiss as he rejoined her, too preoccupied to consider doing more.

His distraction wasn’t lost on Belle.  "You don’t seem very happy about it."

"I had a conversation with her teacher that I found unsatisfying.  When I attempted to question her about what happened on Valentine’s Day, she told me that she couldn’t discuss disciplinary matters with a member of the public.”  He wasn’t accustomed to being dismissed.

Belle made a noise in the back of her throat.  "Yeah, I know.  Jefferson and I had a meeting with her, and it didn’t go great.  According to her, these ‘little conflicts’ are normal and the girls will sort it out for themselves faster if the adults don’t interfere."

It was hard to say whether the teacher actually believed in her own philosophy or if it was just a cover for laziness, but either way, it was cold comfort to a worried family.  "Next election, I believe I’ll run for school board.”

“I hear you,” Belle agreed with a sigh as she butted her shoulder against his.

A moment later, she glanced up at him.  "Wait.  Are you serious?"

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her reaction.  If Belle disapproved, it would be wise to downplay his interest in the matter so she didn’t think he was overstepping.  "I have a vested interest in the matter.  Property values correlate directly with the quality of a school system.”

From the look on her face, she wasn’t fooled for a second.  She smiled tenderly as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.  "I think you’ll be a great addition to the school board."

"You can be my campaign manager when the time comes.”  If he had her blessing, the decision was made.

“You’re running for school board and Jefferson is planning a coup of the PTA, so pretty soon we’ll be running the show.”  From the calculating expression on her face, she had more than a few ideas as to how they should use their power.

He hated to disappoint her.  "Unfortunately, elections aren’t for another year, so if I can assist with your brother’s coup in the meantime, just let me know."

Belle leaned against the counter with a rueful smile.  "Maybe Ms. Drew is right, and this will all blow over next week, and we won’t need to do anything.”

“It’s possible,” he allowed.  To him, that outcome seemed unlikely, but he wasn’t exactly an expert on eight year olds.

“And we found an art class for her.”  Belle sounded more optimistic about that development than she did about the possibility of the bullying situation resolving itself.  

“She’ll love it.  It’ll do her good to meet new people.”  He could speak with some authority on that matter.  Meeting Belle had done him a world of good.

She gave him a nudge.  "What did you think of the picture she drew of you?"

"It was a very flattering representation.”  He couldn’t quite stop himself from adding, “Although I don’t think I have as much silver in my hair as she indicated.”

Instead of taking offense at the mild criticism, Belle giggled.  "Santa brought her a set of metallic colored pencils for Christmas, and she _loves_ them.  She probably just wanted an excuse to use the silver one."

Her explanation soothed his wounded vanity.  "As long as that’s the case, I have no complaints.  You can tell her that I liked it very much.”

“You can tell her yourself tonight.”  Grace had been wanting to see Archimedes again, and Belle was planning to bring the girl over for dinner that evening.  

Gold wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.  He enjoyed the little girl’s company and he would never be less than grateful for time with Belle, but the presence of the child would put a damper on both the conversation and their activities.  Worse, Belle would have to take Grace home, meaning that he would be sleeping alone tonight.

Belle hopped up to sit on the counter, taking hold of his tie to tug him closer until he was standing between her thighs.  There were a great many things they could do in this position, but she only sifted her fingers through his hair, inspecting it.  

“The silver works for you.  It makes you look distinguished and romantic.  You could be some melancholy poet wandering the moors of Scotland.”  She took hold of a lock of hair and used it to tickle the side of his face.

Gold chuckled at her flight of fancy.  There was little poetry in his soul, so Belle had to be teasing him, but it was an amusing image.  "There once was a man from East Kent…"

He trailed off when he remembered how inappropriate the rest of that limerick was.  As soon as he did, Belle used her knee to prod his hip.  "How does the rest go?"

"I’ve forgotten.”  

“Liar.”  She caught his tie in both hands and pulled him down so she could nuzzle his lips, but she refused to allow him to deepen the kiss.

“Belle…”  Whining wasn’t attractive, but when she denied him her luscious mouth, he couldn’t help but complain.

“I want to hear your poem.”  Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Oh god.”  He splayed his hands over her back, resisting the urge to rub himself against her.  In an effort to distract both of them, he lowered his head to trail his lips over her throat, loving the salty taste of her skin.  

Belle released his tie in favor of sliding her fingers into his hair, playing with the strands.  "You have _amazing_ hair."

Her compliments never failed to make his stomach flip over, but this one made him _growl_ , the sound so loud and hungry in the stillness of the shop that he was instantly mortified.

Belle’s grip tightened on his hair as her legs locked around his hips.  "Oh _god_ , that’s hot.”

At her praise, Gold felt his embarrassment evaporate.  He worked his way lower, mumbling nonsense against her skin as he kissed every bit of her that was bared by the neckline of her blouse, and when Belle moaned his name, he nearly collapsed.

In a rare show of courage, he reached for the buttons on her blouse, prepared to stop at once if she expressed any hint of displeasure with his initiative.  Instead, Belle tossed her head, arching her back to give him better access to undo her buttons.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her hard nipples pebbling against the silky material of her blouse, leading Gold to stray from his course of action.  He lowered his head to kiss her nipple through her shirt, and Belle’s cry of pleasure almost prevented him from hearing the shop’s bell ring as the door started to open.

With a muffled curse, he jerked his head up.  "We’re closed!"

"That’s not what the sign says,” Jefferson contradicted as he ambled into the shop, not batting an eyelash at the sight of his sister perched on the counter with Gold between her thighs.

“Oh dear, am I interrupting?  How awkward.”  The other man sprawled bonelessly on the Victorian settee that was a recent acquisition and waved a hand at the two of them.

“Carry on.”

“ _Jefferson_.”  Belle spoke through clenched teeth as she shot Gold an apologetic look.

Her brother pretended not to hear her as he leaned his head against the back of the settee and closed his eyes, humming a sonata.

Since Jefferson seemed to have no intention of leaving, Gold pulled himself out of Belle’s embrace, turning his back on the other man just long enough to adjust himself.  Beside him, Belle was fussing with her blouse, trying to make the damp patch he’d left with his mouth less obvious.

They exchanged wordless looks of chagrin as they got themselves back together, and Gold felt a sudden urge to laugh.  Belle’s face was flushed, her blouse wrinkled from their embrace, and she looked so beautifully rumpled that if he didn’t laugh at the situation, he was going to scream in frustration.

“Why are you here?”  Belle demanded as she hopped off the counter.

Jefferson opened his eyes.  "I thought I’d drop by to see my favorite sister before I pick Grace up from school."

"Since you’ve seen me, don’t let me keep you.”  

Her hint fell on deaf ears.  Jefferson bounced up to prowl the shop, looking at everything with apparent fascination.  "Sold a lot today?"

Tempted as he was to assume that Belle’s brother was just being deliberately irritating, Gold tried to give the other man the benefit of the doubt.  "A bit.  Was there something in particular you were looking for?”

“He’s looking to be a pain my ass,” Belle muttered, not making any real effort to keep Jefferson from overhearing.

Once again, Jefferson ignored her, focusing his attention on Gold.  "As a matter of fact, I _am_ looking for something."

The other man was looking at him meaningfully with an expression that Gold couldn’t begin to interpret.  He was getting better at understanding Belle’s form of silent communication, but Jefferson was still a mystery to him.  "Just what are you looking for?”

Jefferson threw his hands up in surrender.  "If you’re going to force me to spell it out for you… I’m looking for my invitation to tonight’s big shindig.  It must have gotten lost in the mail."

"Seriously?  Were the dramatics really necessary?  If you wanted to come, you could have just said something.”  Belle looked supremely unamused by her brother.

“It would be rude to invite myself to dinner at someone else’s home.”  Jefferson’s face was the picture of innocence, something even Gold knew not to trust.

If Jefferson wanted to join them for dinner, there was no reason not to humor him.  In truth, it had probably been rude not to issue an invitation, but he hadn’t been thinking of it as a dinner party.  He would simply be cooking dinner as he did every night, and Belle was coming over, bringing her niece with her.  Although no one had mentioned Jefferson, Gold would have been neither surprised nor put out had the other man decided to tag along to such a casual gathering.

“Please forgive my lapse.  Would you care to join us for dinner this evening?”  It didn’t hurt to be on his best behavior for Belle’s brother.

Jefferson clapped his hands in delight.  "I would be honored to join you!  Thank you for asking me!"

"Now you’ve gone and encouraged him,” Belle sighed.

“I couldn’t be more excited.  We’ll see you tonight at seven,” Jefferson promised, tipping an imaginary hat to bid them farewell before swanning out of the shop.

“There are days I wish I was an only child.”

Embarrassing as it had been for him to be caught embracing Belle, it had probably been even worse for her.  Still, he was certain that she didn’t mean what she’d said.  "You’d hate it."

"I’d hate it,” Belle agreed with a rueful smile.  "Annoying as he is, I can’t imagine life without him."

She caught Gold’s hand.  "Do you mind having him join us tonight?”

“Not at all.”  There would be plenty of food for another person since he planned to make several of Grace’s favorite dishes in hopes of ensuring a successful evening.

Of course, if Jefferson was only coming along to chaperone, things might get awkward.  "Does he disapprove?  Of our relationship?"

Belle laughed at his worry.  "On the contrary, he adores you.  I think he has visions of stealing you away from me to go LARPing with him.”

“LARPing?” Gold repeated, wondering if he’d misheard her.

“Live action role playing,” she explained, which didn’t clarify things as much as he’d hoped.

“Ah.”  

If he was going to be Belle’s boyfriend and Grace’s surrogate uncle, Gold supposed that made him a sort of surrogate brother to Jefferson.  He didn’t have any interest in role playing with the other man, especially after what Jefferson had said about the possibility of him wearing women’s underwear, but he wasn’t opposed to developing a better relationship with him.

“I’ll enjoy getting to know him better.”  To his surprise, Gold found that he meant it.

Belle’s brother reminded him of the existence of his own half-siblings, and Gold allowed himself a moment to speculate on what they might be like before forcing himself to dismiss the matter from his mind.  The results of the DNA kit wouldn’t be available for at least another week, meaning that there was no point in even thinking about it.

Fortunately, Belle came to his rescue with a distraction.  "You know, there’s one really good thing about Jefferson inviting himself over tonight."

"What’s that?”  He assumed it was a good thing that Belle’s brother liked him, but he wasn’t sure if that was what she was referring to.

“It means that he can drive Grace home after dinner.  Which means that _I_ don’t have to.”  She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be sleeping alone tonight after all.

“That is a _very_ good thing,” he agreed, his voice rough.

“So, you think I should bring my overnight bag with me?”  Her teasing tone told him that she already knew his answer.

“Absolutely.”  

This seemed to be the opportune moment to discuss something that had been on his mind.  "Actually… I thought you might want to bring some things to keep at the house.“

When Belle stared at him, he hastened to explain.  "There’s no sense in you having to carry things back and forth when I have plenty of room to store them and—”

Her mouth collided with his, cutting off the rest of his sentence.  Relieved that he hadn’t made a mess of things, Gold wrapped his arms around her and let himself forget about everything except the woman he was embracing.

When Belle pulled back, her lips were redder than usual, a sight that made his mouth go dry.  

“I like your idea.”

He swallowed hard, wondering what it would be like to see Belle’s toothbrush next to his in his bathroom and her robe hanging in the closet beside his own.  Just imagining it made his knees feel weak.

“I’m glad.”


	26. Chapter 26

Gold gave the pasta salad a final toss, pulling a face at the finished product when he realized just how monochromatic it was.  The color provided by the small bits of bacon did little to liven up the bowl of macaroni, and he had to restrain himself from tinkering with the recipe to improve upon the dish.  

After a moment’s consideration of things like basil and fresh parsley, sanity prevailed and he allowed the impulse to tinker to pass.  When she gave him the recipe, Belle had been very clear that Grace wouldn’t appreciate any deviation from it.  Apparently her niece was rather suspicious of ‘green bits’.

With the eye of a trained chef, Gold stepped back to verify that all of his _mise en place_ was complete.  The less he had to do in front of an audience, the better.  While he enjoyed sharing his kitchen with Belle, Grace was likely to be more critical than her aunt, and he could only imagine what Jefferson might say if he gave Belle’s brother the chance to critique his culinary abilities.

Fortunately, all was in readiness.  The salmon bites were ready to go into the oven, and the cheddar biscuits were waiting on their baking sheet.  Broccoli for the adults would steam while the fish was cooking, and it was already cut and rinsed.  Only dessert remained, and that would take a matter of minutes. 

A flash of movement outside the large window beside the kitchen door made him jump.  When he was a lad, he’d read a story in a magazine about a family that saw faces looking in at them through their windows every night after dark, and the tale had left a deep impression on his youthful psyche.  As a boy, he’d been terrified if the drapes were left open after sunset, and even as an adult, an uncovered window at night made him feel a flicker of unease.  

At fifty-two years of age, he was far too old to be afraid of the dark.  If anything was prowling outside, it was youthful pranksters, not supernatural beings.  Still, he felt better once he’d taken a long look out the window to verify that nothing of earthly origin or otherwise was lurking around the house.

Putting the flash of childish fear behind him, Gold selected the two best apples from the bag he’d bought yesterday and washed them thoroughly before coring each one.  When Belle described this dessert to him, he’d been somewhat baffled, but it was simple enough to make, even if it required buying a few items he once never would have imagined having in his pantry.

With steady fingers, he sliced each apple into thin rounds, the hole left by the core he’d removed creating a shape that put him in mind of a doughnut.  That was the closest thing to dexterity that the dish required.  From there, he slathered each apple slice with a layer of hazelnut spread and sprinkled chocolate chips over the top.

The final touch was the most ridiculous.  He’d felt like an absolute idiot at the grocery store when he bought the container of candy glitter and sprinkles that bore the ridiculous name of Unicorn Poop.  Only his conviction that Grace would love the colorful candy bits had given him the strength to add the bottle to his shopping basket, and he’d glared the unfortunate cashier into submission when the man rang up the item.

He’d intended to decorate only the slices intended for Grace with the sprinkles, but he reconsidered at the last moment.  Knowing Belle, she would appreciate the sprinkles too, and Jefferson would probably demand them just to be contrary.  Since there was no point in leaving a handful of slices unadorned for his own consumption, Gold bedecked every apple slice thoroughly, realizing to his chagrin that the effect was rather fetching.

How the mighty had fallen.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Gold slid the tray of apple slices into the refrigerator to chill and set.  After giving the kitchen a quick tidy, he rolled his shirt sleeves back into place and reaffixed his cufflinks.  Although Belle enjoyed seeing him look more casual, he couldn’t quite bring himself to face her brother and niece without his suit jacket in place.  His only concession was to leave his tie loose and the first button of his shirt undone.  She would have to be content with that.

A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned his head, nearly swallowing his tongue when he saw a small face staring at him through the window.  

Grace beamed at him when she saw him looking at her, the little girl waving happily through the glass.  His heart pounding at twice its normal pace, Gold waved back weakly and leaned against the kitchen island, his knees feeling like they’d turned to jelly.

A moment later, Belle appeared behind her niece, and he could see her lips move as she said something to the little girl that he couldn’t make out.  Glancing up, she smiled at him through the window before rapping on the door.

Since he’d given her a key, he wasn’t sure why she was knocking, but maybe she didn’t want to advertise the latest development in their relationship to her brother.  Still feeling a little unsteady, Gold leaned heavily on his cane as he went to let them in.

“Hi, Mr. Gold!” Grace chirped as she slipped past him into the kitchen.

Belle lingered long enough to kiss his cheek, the warmth of her lips soothing his frazzled nerves.  "Hey."

"Hey,” he replied, feeling himself smiling but unable to do anything to prevent it.

He stepped back to invite Jefferson in, but Belle’s brother stayed where he was, his eyes darting back and forth as he rocked from his heels onto his toes and back.

Knowing Jefferson, the other man might well be waiting for a formal invitation, so Gold did his best to be gracious.  "Would you like to come in?"

"I would, but I’m not sure if I should risk it.”

Bewildered, Gold turned to Belle for help, finding her already giving her brother a dirty look.  "Will you just get in here?  It’s cold outside."

"I’m looking for booby traps,” Jefferson explained as he continued to search the immediate vicinity with his eyes.  

That didn’t do much to allay Gold’s confusion.  "Excuse me?"

"Trip wires, poisoned spikes, sharks with freaking lasers…”  Jefferson rattled off the possibilities.  "There must be a reason no one ever comes here.  Or is it a Cave of Wonders deal?  If I try to cross the threshold, I’ll be incinerated because only the pure of heart may enter."

Grace giggled at her father’s antics.  "Aunt Belle comes here all the time.”

Jefferson nodded.  "Good point.  There’s nothing pure about her."

Belle’s face turned pink as her brother bounded into the kitchen, although whether her heightened color was due to embarrassment or anger, Gold was unsure.  Either way, at least now he could close the door.  "The sharks are in the bathtub.”

“Was that a _joke_?”  Jefferson put his hand over his heart to mime shock.

“Can I see the sharks?” Grace asked eagerly.

Belle gave her niece’s nose a playful tap.  "Mr. Gold was just teasing.  There aren’t any sharks.  You can see Archimedes though."

At her questioning look, Gold nodded his approval of the idea.  "I’m right behind you.”

As Belle escorted her niece out of the kitchen, he trailed behind, frowning over the previous interaction.  Having Grace call him Mr. Gold seemed needlessly formal, but he couldn’t think of a better form of address.  It wouldn’t be appropriate for her to call him by his first name, and he couldn’t claim the title of uncle for himself.  That honorific would have to be bestowed by Belle or Jefferson unless Grace herself deemed him worthy of it.

That seemed unlikely, but at least the little girl wasn’t terrified of him anymore.

Before he could follow Belle and Grace into the hall, Jefferson caught his elbow.  Instantly, Gold stopped and turned to face the other man, finding Jefferson’s expression atypically serious.  Belle had assured him that her brother approved of their relationship, but the look on his face said otherwise.  

Gold braced himself, ready to be subjected to an interrogation about his intentions toward Belle.

“You’re good for her.”

Since he was already preparing a speech to assure Jefferson that his intentions were completely honorable and that he had no intention of breaking Belle’s heart, it took him a moment to regroup.  "I… thank you?"

Gratitude seemed like a safe enough response to Jefferson’s extraordinary statement.  He was going to have to cease the habit of jumping to conclusions.  Far from warning him off, it seemed that Belle was right: Jefferson did, indeed, approve of him.

"Normally she runs screaming from anything that looks like it might get serious,” Jefferson confided.

“I see.”  He’d already been aware of that tendency based on the conversation he’d overheard on New Year’s Day as well as from what Belle herself had told him, but Jefferson probably had more insight to offer on the matter.  

Gold wasn’t quite sure how to ask him to elaborate.  Quizzing Belle’s brother about her behind her back seemed like it was crossing a line even though he wanted only to understand her better.

Fortunately, Jefferson didn’t need any encouragement to continue the conversation.  "It hasn’t been easy for her.  She’s lost too many people.  When I asked her to come to Storybrooke, I didn’t think she’d stay more than a few months.  She’s not big on putting down roots."

"She loves you and Grace,” Gold assured him.  To him, Belle’s loyalty to her family was such an integral part of her that it didn’t seem possible that her brother could doubt it.

Jefferson waved off the remark.  "Oh, I know.  She needs more than me and Gracie though.  I wasn’t sure she’d ever realize that.  Then she met you."

"Ah.”  Everything he was hearing just confirmed what Gold had already suspected.  He never let himself get close to anyone for fear of betrayal.  Belle held herself aloof from the rest of the world for fear of loss.

“Just be patient with her,” Jefferson requested.  "And be warned that you might have to chase her down if she runs.  If it helps, it’s not personal."

He’d waited fifty-two years to find Belle.  He’d gladly wait fifty-two more if it was necessary.  "I have no intention of pressuring her, but I’m not a man who gives up easily.  If she tries to push me away, she’ll find me hard to get rid of.”

He wouldn’t force himself on Belle, but he would never give up on her either.  She’d been so patient with him that he could do no less for her.  If that meant following her to the Congo or trekking up Everest to prove his devotion, so be it.

“You _are_ serious about her.  Good.”  Gold hadn’t noticed how tense Jefferson was until the other man’s shoulders relaxed.

“I’d marry her tonight if she’d have me.”  He wouldn’t tell Jefferson that he loved her before Belle heard the words for herself, but Gold wanted to make his intentions known.

Cringing, Jefferson held up his hands.  "I’d rather not think about her having you if it’s all the same to you."

Jefferson’s return to his usual jocular manner told Gold that Belle’s brother was content that he’d made his point and he was satisfied with Gold’s response.  It was rather amazing how quickly the other man could shift between teasing and deathly serious.  Jefferson had far more depth than Gold had ever given him credit for.

"Dr. Whale assures me that my health is excellent,” he remarked as he escorted Jefferson out of the kitchen, answering a question Belle’s brother had asked him months ago.  If the other man was going to put so much faith in him, the least he could do was assure Jefferson that he wasn’t likely to drop dead any time soon.

Jefferson beamed at his statement.  "You’ve had a full physical?  No underlying conditions?  How’s your blood pressure?"

Gold did his best to answer the barrage of questions, relieved when he managed to lead Jefferson to the office before the other man could inquire as to when he’d last had a prostate exam.  Jefferson's curiosity was as thorough as it was relentless.

"Look!  This is Arcameeky.  I taught him a trick!”  Grace waved her father over eagerly, and Belle stepped back so Jefferson could stand beside his daughter.

She slid her arm through his and leaned into his side.  "Did he say anything else horrible?"

Gold chuckled at her question and took advantage of Jefferson and Grace’s distraction to kiss her hair.  "Not at all.  We simply made small talk about my health.”

He wasn’t sure if he should tell Belle what Jefferson had said about her relationship history.  He didn’t want to lie to her, even if only by omission, but neither did he wish to betray Jefferson’s confidence.  

Either way, it wasn’t something they needed to talk about at that moment.  Grace was drawing patterns on the fish tank with her index finger while Archimedes followed her movement, swimming in loops that made the little girl giggle.

“He’s a nice fish.  Can I get a fish like him?” she beseeched her father.

Jefferson’s nose crinkled as he considered the question, and for the first time, Gold could see a resemblance between him and Belle.  "Fish don’t live very long, crumpet.  Maybe a different pet?  A turtle?"

"Turtles don’t _do_ anything.  I want a fish that I can teach tricks.”  Apparently stubbornness ran in the family.

“The pet store said that a betta’s average lifespan is three years, but they can live to be ten or more.”  As the resident expert on betta fish, Gold contributed his relevant knowledge to the conversation.

“Three years is a long time, and ten is even longer.”  To an eight year old, three years probably did sound like an eternity, and Gold did his best not to smile at her naive statement.

“And they’re pretty low maintenance,” Belle added.

Jefferson threw up his hands.  "Fine!  If you’re all against me, I surrender.  We’ll pick out a fish tomorrow."

Grace squealed with delight as she clapped her hands, then hugged her father hard around the waist.  "Thank you!”

Belle squeezed Gold’s arm.  "This is going to be good for her.  Thank you."

He hadn’t done anything to deserve her thanks, but Gold opted not to point that out.  "You’re welcome.”

Now that Grace had been promised a fish of her own, she seemed to lose some interest in Archimedes.  She and Jefferson were both looking at him expectantly, and Gold cast around for something to say.  He wasn’t accustomed to having guests.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” he hazarded.

Fortunately for him, Jefferson lit up at the suggestion, and Grace looked almost as eager to explore.  Keeping her arm looped through his, Belle led the way, and Gold was content to follow as she started the tour, trusting that she knew what would most interest her brother and niece.

It was nice to have a child around, he reflected as Grace exclaimed over a piece of bric-a-brac he’d had for so long that he barely noticed it any more.  To the little girl, everything was new and exciting, and seeing the world through her eyes brought a little of that novelty back to him, making him feel younger himself.

Although Belle was devoted to her niece, Gold had no idea how she might feel about having a child of her own some day.  Since she hadn’t yet decided to take him on permanently, that was a topic of discussion for some future date, but it was pleasant to think about, if only in theory.

Of course, since they still hadn’t even gotten his trousers off, he was probably putting the cart before the horse.

“It’s a princess bed!” Grace squealed when Belle opened the door to the third guest room.

The antiques dealer in Gold wanted to explain that the bed was made in the Chippendale style, which drew heavily on Gothic influences, making it look like it belonged in the pages of a storybook.  Since an eight year old probably didn’t care about furniture design styles, he managed to restrain himself.

Before Belle could stop her, Grace flung herself onto the bed and started bouncing, her exuberant behavior sparking an idea in the back of his mind.  This room was little more than a storage area at the moment, but there was no reason it couldn’t be cleaned up and made habitable.  If Belle was going to continue spending nights here, it might not be a bad idea to have a bedroom for Grace as well, just in case.  

He made a mental list of the things that would need to be done to the room as the tour continued, shaking his head at himself when he realized he’d found yet another project to fill his time.  He and Belle were meeting with a contractor next week to discuss the library renovation, which was sure to be complicated, but at least he’d nearly finished fixing Jefferson’s broken bowl.  It was getting to the point where there weren’t enough hours in his day, a far cry from the long, dull days he’d lived before Belle came to Storybrooke.

“Let’s make a list of everything we need for your fish,” Belle suggested as they returned to the kitchen.

The exercise was engrossing, distracting Grace and Jefferson enough to allow Gold to finish cooking dinner without feeling like he was under a spotlight.  In the lulls while he waited for things to finish in the oven, he joined them at the table, contributing suggestions from the knowledgeable position of an experienced fish owner.

Having an extra two people in the house, even when one of them was as small as Grace, seemed to increase the noise level exponentially, but for some reason, he found that he didn’t mind.  Although he’d always been a man who valued silence and solitude, the noisy kitchen pleased something deep in his soul.  It was enjoyable to listen to Grace’s cheerful prattle and Jefferson’s off-kilter remarks and to know that if he said something, the others would listen and respond.

Even though he half-feared the spell would be broken the moment they moved to the dining room, the camaraderie carried on through dinner.  For years, he’d sat alone at this table, then Belle had joined him.  Now, there were four people sharing a meal, and even if he didn’t have the slightest idea how 3D printing worked, he could appreciate Jefferson’s enthusiasm for the idea of 3D printing a castle for Grace’s fish tank based on one of her drawings.

“Did you like the picture I drew of you?” Grace asked him, changing the subject.

“I thought it was an excellent likeness.”  With effort, he refrained from commenting on the amount of silver she’d put in his hair.

“I got an A+ on it.  That was the best grade in the class.”  She happily speared a piece of macaroni as she made the announcement.

“I’d say it was well deserved.”  Gold allowed himself a moment to feel smug about the small part he’d played in ensuring Grace’s work received an appropriate grade.

“I’m going to go to an art class.  In _Boston_.”  From the tone of her voice, Grace would be less excited if they were sending her to Paris.

“I’m looking forward to seeing all of your new work.”  He meant the words sincerely.  It would be intriguing to watch the development of the girl’s artistic talent.

Talk of the new art classes preoccupied all of them until he brought out dessert.  As hoped, Grace nearly levitated out of her chair at the sight of the sprinkles.  "They’re so pretty!"

Across the table, Belle caught his eye as he sat down, giving him a warm smile.  Gold jumped as she caressed his ankle with her bare foot, covering the inadvertent movement by quickly passing around the tray of apple slices.

Long after the food was gone, the four of them continued to sit around the table talking, and Gold was finally able to put his finger on why he was enjoying the evening so much.  Having Belle under his roof was always wonderful, but adding Grace and Jefferson to the mix reminded him of childhood evenings with his aunties.  No matter what else had been happening around him, those nights had always been oases of happiness, making him feel safe and loved.

Now, in this room, he felt a reflection of those bygone days.  For the first time in decades, Gold had been reminded what it felt like to be part of a family.

"Don’t stay up _too_ late!” Jefferson trilled as they said their goodbyes in the kitchen at the end of the evening.

“Bye, Aunt Belle.  Bye, Mr. Gold.”  Grace hugged her aunt and waved at him before allowing her father to help her into her coat.

“Have fun picking out your fish tomorrow.”

“We’ll bring it to the shop to show you!  Can we, Dad?”  She looked up at Jefferson imploringly.

“As long as you promise not to touch any of the counters.”  Jefferson gave him a wink over the little girl’s head.

“Good _night_ , Jefferson.”  Belle was careful not to look at him as she escorted her brother and niece out of the house, giving Gold the chance to cool his flushed face.

Jefferson was _never_ going to let them live that down.

Belle waved until they pulled out of the driveway, then closed the door with a sigh.  "I think that went well."

She looked at him hopefully, and Gold hastened to agree.  "I had a lovely evening.  I hope your family felt welcome.”

“They had a great time.  I think you could have served liver and onions, and as long as you finished with those sprinkles, Grace would have thought it was the best meal ever.”  

Gold chuckled.  "I’ll remember that for next time."

When she first arrived, she’d placed her overnight bag just inside the kitchen door.  Now, Belle tapped it with her foot, her expression diffident.  "I brought some things with me like you suggested.”

For him, this was an enormous step, but his conversation with Jefferson had reminded Gold that it was just as intimidating for Belle.  For a woman who didn’t like to put down roots, taking the first step toward cohabitation had to be terrifying.

He stepped closer and put his hand on the side of her face to encourage her to meet his gaze.  "I’m very glad you did."

Her expression softened as she leaned into his touch.  "Okay.  I can do this.”

“Of course you can,” he assured her, groping for the right words to soothe her fears.

“Belle… I’m not trying to cage you.  I just want to be with you.  I think you’re perfect exactly as you are.”  He clicked his teeth with the frustration of not being able to give voice to the depth of his feelings.  Under normal circumstances, Gold considered himself eloquent, but this wasn’t an area where he had much practice.

Belle’s nose crinkled as she smiled.  "Despite my many flaws?"

"Because of them.”  If she’d been a single ounce less stubborn and impossible, she wouldn’t be Belle, and he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her.

Her shy smile told him that she understood that this time he wasn’t teasing.  "Want to help me unpack?"

There was nothing he’d rather do.  "I’d love to.”


	27. Chapter 27

Despite her confidence in the kitchen, by the time they reached the bottom of the staircase, Belle’s steps had slowed considerably.  Gold did his best not to acknowledge her visible trepidation and kept pace with her as though it was the most natural thing in the world for Belle to move at a tortoise pace.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the top of the stairs, and Belle swallowed hard as she turned towards his bedroom, looking more like a prisoner approaching the gallows than a woman preparing to spend the night with a man she professed to like and to whom she claimed to be very attracted.

Her reluctance was a punch in the gut to Gold, who’d been anticipating this moment since Belle first suggested that Jefferson drive Grace home so she could spend the night with him.  Right now, she looked like she would rather be anywhere else, and his first impulse was to assume that she’d finally come to her senses and realized that literally any other person in Storybrooke would be a better partner for her than he would be.

He didn’t know why he was surprised.  His unsuitability was so obvious that the only wonder was that it had taken her this long to notice.

The grief nearly choked him, and Gold ground his teeth in an effort to suppress it and turn it into any other emotion since he refused to cry in front of Belle.  With effort, he dredged up a wave of anger and concentrated on that, using his rage to burn away the sorrow.  This was his father’s fault for setting such a wretched example for him to follow.  It was the universe’s fault for keeping Belle away from him until it was too late.

It was his own fault for being such a miserable curmudgeon that Belle could never learn to love him.

The self-loathing slipped into place as easily as a long-time friend arriving for a visit, and Gold welcomed it.  Self-loathing was something he knew how to deal with.  To take away its power, all he had to do was make someone else feel worse than he did, and right now, the closest person at hand was Belle.

He turned to her as they reached the door of his bedroom, prepared to snarl, but the trembling of her lips knocked the wind out of his sails.  There was no need for him to tear her down when she looked miserable already.

What the hell was he doing?

The pain and rage rushed out of him like air from a balloon as he gazed into Belle’s eyes.  This was Belle, the woman he loved, and he’d been ready to eviscerate her verbally just to soothe his own injured pride.  Gold knew that he wasn’t a good man, but that was low even for him.

Shame filled him.  Less than three hours ago, he’d vowed to stop jumping to the worst possible conclusion, and he’d fallen flat on his face at the very first hurdle.  Worse, there was no reason for him to assume that Belle was having second thoughts about their relationship because he knew damned well what was bothering her: they were getting serious, and that scared her.

Earlier, he’d promised Jefferson that he would never give up on Belle, but at the first sign of trouble, he’d been ready to throw in the towel.  Mentally, he kicked himself, disgusted by his lapse.  Since when was he the sort of man who gave up so easily?

Normally, it was Belle who talked him away from the edge, but this time he had to check himself.  His insecurities had tried to mislead him, and he’d very nearly allowed them to succeed.  Had he lashed out at her, he might well have done serious damage to their relationship.  Belle could usually laugh off his gaffes and misplaced snarling, but she was vulnerable right now.  Instead of relying on her to reassure him, he needed to comfort her.

If Belle was afraid, he would be brave for both of them.

“Come here.”  

Gold pulled her into his arms, bag and all, and Belle instantly pressed herself close, her fingers digging into his shoulders so hard that he imagined he would have bruises the next day.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wishing he’d done this sooner.  While he was stewing in his own toxic sludge of emotions, Belle had been working herself up just as much.  "There’s nothing to be sorry for."

"I don’t want you to think I don’t want this because I do want this, but… I don't…”  Her fingers picked at his jacket.

“Come on.”  Keeping his arm around her, Gold led her to the bed, kicking her bag under it when Belle let it fall to the ground.  Maybe having it out of sight would help to ease her nerves.

Pausing only long enough to remove his jacket and toss it to the floor, he pulled her down onto the bed and wrapped himself around her, once again surprised to feel how tiny her frame was.  Belle was fragile, and he would do anything in his power to protect her even if the only thing threatening her now was her own mind.

“If you’re not ready for this, that’s fine.  We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”  He would be disappointed if she chose not to leave any of her things here, but that was beside the point.  He’d waited so long to meet her that waiting a little longer was a small price to pay.

“But I _do_ want to do it.”  Belle looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him for understanding.

“I love being with you.  I _miss_ you when we’re not together.”  She didn’t sound entirely happy about that.

“I feel the same way about you.  There’s never a moment I don’t want to be with you.”  No matter what he was doing, there was never a time when having Belle beside him wouldn’t make things better.

“I mean I _really_ miss you.”  She looked away, lowering her head so he couldn’t see her face.  "And that scares me."

"Oh, sweetheart…”  Gold pressed his lips against her temple, feeling as though they’d reached the crux of the matter.  Much as he wanted to simply exalt in the knowledge that Belle craved his company as much as he did hers, there was no time for that.  If she was afraid, he had to understand why.

“What are you afraid of?”  Considering what he knew of her past, Gold had an idea of what the answer would be, but hearing Belle put her fears into words could only help both of them.  

“What if something goes wrong?” she whispered without looking up.

“What do you expect to go wrong?”  He could think of a thousand different ways he could ruin their relationship, but he had no idea what Belle might consider a deal-breaker.  Perhaps he should be taking notes so he knew what to avoid.

“What if we don’t work out?  What if you get tired of me?  What if… something terrible happens?”  Belle was twisting her hands in the front of his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

“What if I lose you?”

He stroked his hand soothingly over her back as his mind raced.  He’d once eavesdropped on a conversation between her and Jefferson where she’d voiced very similar fears, but that had been months ago.  It didn’t seem possible that she was still worrying about the same things.

“Belle…”  He wasn’t sure how to reassure her that none of the things she was concerned about would happen.  How could he promise that he’d never get tired of her without revealing far more than she was ready to hear?

Swallowing hard, Gold made a decision.  He could think of only one way to allay Belle’s fears, and it might do more harm than good.  Still, he had to try.  If she ran, he would just have to hope that she would eventually find her way back to him.

“I love you.”

She jerked her head back to look at him, her eyes wide, and Gold put his index finger over her lips to forestall whatever she might say.  "Don’t say anything.  I didn’t say it to try to get you to say it back.  I know it’s too soon.  You don’t ever have to say it back.  But I _love_ you, Belle.  Nothing is ever going to change that.  There’s nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you… stop wanting to be with you.  If you leave this house right now and never come back and I never see you again, I’ll still love you for the rest of my life.  I will do whatever it takes to make this work."

Belle’s eyes filled with tears, making him feel sick.  In his attempt to reassure her, he might well have ruined everything, and that thought was unbearable.  

Hesitantly, he moved his finger from her lips.  Had she really wanted to speak, that light pressure wouldn’t have stopped her, but Belle had allowed him to say his piece.  Now, he had to do the same, even if it destroyed him.

"Oh, Nachton…” she murmured, her voice breaking.

“So, you see, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”  He tried to smile.  "It’s all in your hands.  I’m not going anywhere.  No matter what, I will always love you and want us to be together."

It went against every instinct he had to bare his soul like this, but Belle was worth the risk.  If nothing else, he would know that he’d done everything he could.

Belle pressed her face against his chest, her arms going around him to hold him almost painfully tight.    Although she was breathing raggedly, Gold didn’t think she was crying, which he thought might be a good sign.  He’d told Belle that he loved her, and she was still in his arms.  If that didn’t scare her away, perhaps nothing would.

He nuzzled her hair as she clung to him, hoping his words had convinced her that he would never willingly be parted from her.  His love for Belle was a cornerstone of his very being.  He didn’t love many people, but once he’d given his heart, his loyalty was unshakeable.  Belle could rob him blind, burn down his house, and sleep with a dozen other men, and he would love her all the same, just for being Belle.

Finally, she lifted her head and reached up to cradle his face.  "You’re _wonderful_.”

Gold turned his face to kiss her palm.  It wasn’t a declaration of love, but that didn’t matter.  If Belle thought he was wonderful, that was more than enough for him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of losing me.”  He tried to lighten the mood with a joke, “You’d have to shoot me in the head to get rid of me.”  

As he’d hoped, Belle chuckled at his declaration, sniffling a little.  "Well, I’m not going to do _that_."

"Good because I wouldn’t enjoy it.”  He kissed her forehead, relieved that she was comforted by the knowledge that he’d attached himself to her like a barnacle instead of being horrified.  The situation could easily have gone the other way.

“And you love me.”  Belle’s voice was wondering.

“Very much.  And nothing will ever change that.”  It had taken him far too long to realize it, but nothing in his life had ever given him more pleasure than loving Belle.  Even if she never loved him back, it wouldn’t matter.  He would be content simply to love her.

“Nothing?”  She was trying to sound teasing, but her eyes were almost desperate, silently begging him to reassure her.

“Nothing at all,” he promised.

“Even if I gained a hundred pounds?”

Try as he might, Gold couldn’t understand why that would make a difference.  Belle would still be Belle no matter what she looked like.  "There would be more of you to love and touch."

Actually, considering the amount of ice cream they ate, it was likely they would both put on some weight as time passed, and there was something oddly charming about the idea of them as a roly-poly old couple with gray hair and glasses and a dozen grandchildren running around.

"Even if I decided I couldn’t stay in Storybrooke one more day, and I went to live in a hut in Tibet?” she challenged, and he could see some of the shadows leaving her eyes.

“My passport is current, and I’ve always wanted to see Tibet.”  Hopefully he could talk her into a hut with running water, but he would sacrifice indoor plumbing for her happiness if need be.  Storybrooke was just a place.  Belle was his home.

Belle upped the stakes yet again.  "Even if I insisted on keeping a Christmas tree up all year round?"

He was tempted to tease her that she was pressing her luck, but Gold thought better of it.  Belle still hadn’t regained her normal sparkle, and the risk that she might internalize a lighthearted jibe wasn’t worth it.  "You can have a tree in every room.”

With a gulping breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Belle sat up, her expression deathly serious.  "Promise me something."

"Anything.”  Gold quickly sat up to join her, his heart beating fast as he tried to anticipate what demand she was planning to make of him.

She leaned closer, her gaze boring into him.  "Promise to outlive me."

That was the last thing he’d expected her to say.  "What?”

“I get to die first.  Promise me that you’ll let me die first.”  Belle was breathing hard, almost panting, and Gold could feel the heat of her breath against his lips.

“I…”  It was an insane request.  There was no way he could make such a guarantee.  Even if he wasn’t two decades her senior, there was still no way to ensure that he would outlive Belle.  For all he knew, a meteorite would fall from the sky and cave his head in tomorrow while he was walking to the diner.  

From the look on her face, Belle was in no mood to listen to logic, and he could understand why.  She’d lost far too many people already.  Unfortunately, he didn’t come with a warranty.  

“Promise me!”  The shrill note in her voice made his heart skip a beat.  This was Belle as he’d never seen her before.  This was the woman who’d been hurt time and again, and he longed to shield her from anything that could cause her pain.

“I promise.”

She let out a gasping sob as she clutched the front of his shirt.  Gold rested his hands over hers, offering her whatever comfort his touch could give.

“You promise?” she asked, sounding almost childlike.

“I promise to outlive you.”  He rubbed the insides of her wrists with his thumbs as he tried to smile.  "I’ll smother you with a pillow if I have to."

That was not a romantic statement, but Belle flung herself forward, kissing him like he’d just handed her a first edition of _The Canterbury Tales_.  Gold caught her with a grunt as his back collided with the headboard, her tongue plunging past his startled lips.

An instant later, Belle was straddling his lap, her skirt riding up as her hands tore at his tie and the front of his shirt.  Her mouth was hot against his, setting him ablaze, and Gold surrendered to her sensual assault, delighted to be so fiercely desired.  

He grasped her hips as Belle got his shirt open, her fingernails scraping over his chest.  A noise akin to a growl escaped his mouth at the sensation, her nails leaving a trail of fire that made his cock twitch.  Desperate to reciprocate, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, letting out a strangled groan when Belle sucked hungrily on it.

"God,” she muttered as she tore her mouth off of his to kiss the line of his jaw, leaving him panting and gasping as he arched his neck to aid her, offering up his throat.

When she nibbled on his ear, Gold nearly bit his tongue in half to muffle his shout, the noise earning him a wicked giggle from Belle.  "God, you’re so hot.  I want you so much."

Her words were as arousing as her actions.  He longed to praise her in kind, but the only word he could think was her name.  "Belle… Belle…”

“Nachton…”  She pressed her mouth to his again, the kiss gentler this time.  She cradled his face, touching him like he was something precious.

She pulled back to gaze at him, her eyes soft.  "My beautiful Nachton."

Gold’s mouth went dry at the tenderness in her face.  With Belle looking at him like that, all of his insecurities fled.  In her arms, he felt beautiful and beloved and worthy, perhaps for the first time in his life.

"I love you, Belle.”  He could only hope that hearing those words made her feel a fraction of the things she made him feel just by looking at him.

Although her eyes went bright, Belle kept smiling.  "My darling."

Leaning down, she pressed her lips against his chest, kissing the places she’d scratched to soothe them.  "I’m sorry I was rough with you.”

“I loved it.”  When he dared to think about being in bed with Belle, Gold had envisioned something gentle and romantic, but her urgency had taught him something new about himself: he enjoyed a rough touch and frenzied pace every bit as much as he enjoyed touches that were soft and sweet.

He could feel her smile against his skin as she kissed his nipple, then she swirled her tongue around the bud as he gasped.  

“Gorgeous… You’re so responsive.”  As though to prove her point, Belle took his nipple into her mouth and sucked as she fluttered her tongue over it, making him grind his teeth as his hips twitched, his body moving of its own accord to plead for more.  

Sweat broke out over his face as he ground the back of his head against the headboard, struggling to keep control.  Belle, however, was having none of that.  She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck as she pressed her body flush against his, her weight settling firmly over his groin.

Gold muttered a curse as she squirmed against him in search of a more comfortable position.  His erection was nestled snugly between her thighs, their bodies separated only by his clothes and her knickers.  Even through the fabric he could feel the heat of her, and his cock hardened further, something he’d thought was impossible.  

He was throbbing as Belle rocked against him, and it wasn’t until she crooned, “That’s it, Nachton,” that he realized her movements were a deliberate attempt to pleasure him.  At his shocked groan, she kissed him, nibbling on his bottom lip as she ground her hips against him.

“I want to go down on you,” she murmured against his mouth.

The high-pitched noise that emerged from his nose would have embarrassed him if Gold had any attention to spare for the matter.  Instead, his focus had narrowed down to the look in Belle’s blue eyes and the pressure of her body against his aching cock, her extraordinary statement ringing in his ears.

“Belle…”

“Do you want that?” she asked sweetly.  

He was so hard that he felt like he was going to explode, and she was asking if he wanted her to take him in her mouth.  This couldn’t possibly be happening.  "You… You don't… don’t have to…"

“I _want_ to.”  Belle kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I _can’t_ ,” he moaned.  He was too hard, too desperate.  He’d come at the first touch of her lips if he even managed to last until she got his trousers undone.

“Okay,” she whispered as she rocked against him again, lining them up even more perfectly.  "Should we keep doing this?"

” _Please_.“  If she stopped, if she put a single inch of distance between them, he would lose his mind.

"Move with me.”  Holding his gaze, Belle pressed her hips forward deliberately, her lips parting on a soft gasp as she rubbed their bodies together.

His gut twisted with a combination of arousal and humiliation.  "I don’t know what to do."

"Yes, you do.”  Leaning forward, she swiped her tongue over his lips.

“I don't… I don't…”  She gave him too much credit.  More than anything, Gold wanted to please her.  He wanted to move against her and bring her to the heights of ecstasy, but he didn’t know what to _do_.

“Your body knows.”  Belle covered his mouth with her own, thrusting her tongue past his lips in shallow strokes.  The rocking of her hips never faltering, she caressed his chest, her fingers finding the places that made him sweat and shake with need.

Gold groaned as his back spasmed, his hips bucking of their own volition.  At his movement, Belle made a breathy noise of encouragement, her tongue sweeping eagerly through his mouth, and he suddenly understood.

He clutched at her as he drew his knees up, pulling her more tightly against him.  He needed more of her, needed _all_ of her.  His hips were bucking gracelessly, and every time he thrust up, Belle ground herself down, the two of them falling into a rhythm that was as familiar as it was new to him.  He was grunting with every thrust, and when Belle rubbed her breasts against his chest, he nearly howled.

“Nachton… touch me… touch me…” she begged as she leaned back just enough to undo her blouse, her fingers clumsy.

Beyond thought, Gold reached for her breast, sliding his fingers into the cup of her bra to feel her soft skin and her pebbled nipple.  Belle keened as she jerked her hips, then reached down to tug her knickers aside as she pushed herself against him, the angle changing slightly.

“There!” she gasped, her eyes going wide as she looked at him.  Her pupils were huge, and Gold growled as he thrust up, trying to match her pace.

As he stroked her breast, he slipped his other arm around her waist to pull her more tightly against him, their bodies grinding together.  His chest was heaving like he was running a marathon, sweat dripping off of him.  Instead of being disgusted by the mess, Belle kissed him like she was starving for him, her hands moving over him in firm strokes.

Gold couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but cling to Belle and _thrust_.  He was throbbing, the material of his boxers chafing his sensitive skin, but none of that mattered because Belle was rubbing herself against him, and she was so beautiful, so beautiful, and he loved her so much his heart would break from it.

It had been so long that he barely recognized the signs when he felt them.  One minute, he was thrusting, thrusting, _thrusting_ , and the next his mind was coming apart, his hoarse shout filling the room as his cock twitched and released, spilling its seed in frantic bursts of ecstasy.

With a growl, Belle lowered her head and jerked her hips, rubbing herself against him furiously in a way that nearly made him black out from the violent waves of pleasure.  Then she was moaning, her body shaking in his arms as he clung to her, pressing sloppy kisses against the side of her face.  

They collapsed in a boneless heap, Belle’s body half-trapped beneath his.  Gold snuffled at her hair, feeling wrung-out and giddy.  He’d made a mess of his trousers, and Belle was still mostly dressed, her outfit wrinkled and wet with sweat.  As he adjusted his position to hold her closer, he realized he still had his shoes on.

For some reason, that was the funniest thing in the history of the world, and he laughed helplessly until Belle lifted her head to look at him.

“Are you okay?”

“I still have my shoes on.”

She stared at him, then she was laughing too, the pair of them cackling like hyenas until their chests hurt too much to continue.

“You’re okay?” Belle asked as she ran her fingers through his damp hair.

He rubbed himself against her hand like a pampered pet.  "I’ve never felt better."

"Good.”

Leaning up, she brushed her lips against his.  "We should get undressed."

That would entail letting go of her.  "Later.”

“And I need to unpack.”

She said it so easily that Gold knew the worst of her fears were behind her.  Still, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her.  "Later."

Belle snuggled closer, tucking her head beneath his chin.  "Later.”


	28. Chapter 28

Belle’s hair smelled like lavender.

For some reason, Gold had never noticed that detail before, but now that he had, the scent instantly became his personal favorite.  Burying his nose against the crown of her head, he breathed her in, his body aching in a way that was both totally unfamiliar and incredibly pleasant.

He grinned senselessly into her hair, feeling as though his blood had turned effervescent in his veins.  While he’d had his share of orgasms in the past— all of them at his own hand— he’d never reached orgasm with another person before, and that changed _everything_.  Never in his life had he felt so contented and relaxed.  Never before had he felt so _good_.

With Belle in his arms, his body still humming with the pleasure they’d shared, the world felt like a beautiful place.  Nothing could possibly annoy him right now.  His house could burn down around them, and this would still be the best day of his life.  If Sean Herman appeared in his bedroom to beg for an extension on his rent, he would gladly waive the entire month’s payment because everyone should feel a tenth of the happiness he was feeling.

Malcolm Gold and Milah had both told him a hundred times that if he just got laid, he wouldn’t be such a miserable bastard.  Perhaps, in their crude way, they’d been correct.

That was a disquieting thought, and Gold’s smile faded as he mulled it over.  Could having sex change someone’s personality in such a fundamental way?  He’d been a miserable bastard for five decades now, and it had served him well.  It wasn’t comfortable to think that he might suddenly turn into David Nolan just because he and Belle had reached orgasm together.

It was ridiculous to think that his business acumen and acerbic personality were a direct result of his virginity, but Gold couldn’t seem to shake the thought once he’d had it.  He was more than half tempted to get out of bed and go evict the nuns just to prove to himself that he hadn’t lost his edge, but that would mean letting go of Belle, and he wasn’t ready to do that just yet.  

His reluctance to leave her arms wasn’t reassuring.  As a thought experiment, he tried to imagine any scenario that would persuade him to leave this bed and came up empty.  Storybrooke was his personal fiefdom, and for all he cared, it could crumble around him as long as Belle remained snuggled against him.

Somehow this possibility had never occurred to him when he considered the repercussions of losing his virginity.

Gold hesitated over the thought.   _Had_ he lost his virginity?  He and Belle had climaxed together, which seemed definitive, but they also still had the majority of their clothes on.  His trousers were still fastened, and his belt was in place.  Hell, he was still wearing his shoes.  

Belle nuzzled against him.  "What are you thinking?"

"Am I still a virgin?”

He felt like a fool as soon as he asked the question, but Belle didn’t laugh, although her eyebrows lifted a little when she raised her head to look at him.  "That’s not what I was expecting you to say."

"I don’t know why I thought of it,” he hedged, not quite ready to share the entire, convoluted thought process that had led him to the essential question.  He was a novice at this, but even he knew that telling Belle he’d been thinking about other people while he was in bed with her was a bad idea, especially if those people were David Nolan and Sean Herman.  They’d already had that misunderstanding on New Year’s Eve.

“Do you _feel_ like a virgin?” she asked, countering his question with one of her own.

“I don’t know.  What do virgins feel like?”  Belatedly, Gold realized it would be very easy to take that question out of context.

Snickering, Belle slipped her hand lower to give his behind an affectionate squeeze that almost derailed Gold’s train of thought.  "They feel pretty good to me."

He rolled his eyes in mock irritation at her teasing, secretly delighted by her blatant attraction to him.

When Belle’s expression sobered, he wished he’d responded in kind.  Determining his level of virginity seemed far less important than feeling Belle’s hands on his body.

"Do you still consider yourself a virgin?” she pressed.

Over the course of his life, Gold had defined himself in a variety of ways.  He was an educated man, a shop owner, a property developer, an unloved son, and a father who’d lost his child.  Recently, he’d added being Belle’s boyfriend to that list.  Through it all, his virginity had been part of the mosaic of his identity, something he was aware of but thought little about.

Since he’d never paid much attention to what being a virgin felt like, it was hard to determine if he still felt like one.  Instead, Gold concentrated on trying to decide if he felt any different than he had this morning.  He was certainly happier— it was impossible to be otherwise with Belle in his arms— but he still seemed to be fundamentally the same person.

Some of the euphoria from his orgasm had worn off, probably hastened by the intrusion of his overly analytic mind, and Gold was somewhat relieved to discover that he had no lingering desire to waive anyone’s rent payments or skip through Storybrooke’s town square whistling a happy tune.  He was the same cantankerous bastard he’d always been.  He was just a cantankerous bastard who’d reached orgasm with Belle.

He shifted, the material of his trousers chafing his delicate skin, and that sensation decided him.  It was hard to lose your virginity with your trousers fastened.

“I believe that I do still consider myself a virgin,” he decided.

Belle nodded easily.  "Then you are."

Somehow he’d expected more arguing, if only because Belle tended to argue with him about _everything_.  "I assumed you would have a stronger opinion on the matter.”

“It’s not like there’s some International Court of Virginity where you have to plead your case.  If you consider yourself a virgin, you are one.”  Belle tickled his side.  "That works for me since it means I still get to look forward to deflowering you."

Gold’s face heated as he felt his cock give an optimistic twitch at her words.  "I suppose I should take my shoes off first.”

She laughed aloud before leaning in for a kiss.  "You’re darling."

Before he was ready, she pulled herself out of his arms and sat up, shrugging out of her unbuttoned blouse without a trace of self-consciousness.  "Come on.  Whether I deflower you tonight or not, we’ll both be more comfortable if we get out of our street clothes.”

Much as he hated to admit it, she was right.  As Gold sat up to remove his shoes and socks, he watched Belle retrieve her bag from where he’d kicked it underneath the bed.  After everything they’d done together, he’d almost forgotten that she’d been planning to unpack her things.

“I cleared space for you.”  Despite his antipathy toward change, it had been nothing but a pleasure to clean out room in the dresser and closet for Belle’s things.  Whimsically, he’d felt as though he was making room for her in his life, not just his bedroom, the small gesture one more step along a path that would hopefully lead them to the altar.  

It was too soon to mention that possibility, especially when he could see a hint of nervousness flit across Belle’s face as she shook the wrinkles out of a dress so she could hang it up.  By promising to outlive her, he’d helped to allay her fears, but it would take more than a single conversation to rid her of them completely.

To distract her from her worries, he decided to broach an idea he’d had earlier in the evening.  "Grace seemed taken with that bedroom suite."

As he’d hoped, Belle smiled at the mention of her niece.  "The princess bed?  That’s right up her alley.”

“I thought I might clean that room up a bit.  It might be nice for Grace to have a bedroom here.”

When Belle turned to look at him, Gold realized that it might seem suspicious for a middle-aged man to want to have a sleepover with an eight-year-old girl.  "Just so she has a space of her own to play when your family visits.  I’m certainly not using it for anything important.  And you know how quickly storms can develop.  If we get snowed in, I’d hate to make her sleep on my office couch when there’s a perfectly good bedroom—"

Belle’s lips collided with his, cutting him off.  Gold had been so lost in his rambling explanation that he hadn’t even noticed her moving.

“That’s _really_ sweet of you,” she said sincerely.  "I’m happy to see the two of you getting along so well."

"I enjoy her company.”  He’d been willing to tolerate the child simply because she was Belle’s niece, but the more he interacted with Grace, the more he liked her for her own sake.

He’d liked children once.  Losing Bae had made him forget that.

“Actually, that makes me feel better about things,” Belle said as she resumed putting her things in the dresser.  Some of them appeared to be very small and very lacy, and Gold did his best not to look too closely.  "I didn’t want to shirk my aunt duties by spending too much time here.  If you don’t mind having Grace over sometimes…"  

“I don’t mind.  Jefferson can come too if he wants to.”  Although he enjoyed having Belle’s undivided attention, it was nice to have a slightly wider circle of people to spend time with.

She chuckled.  "Did he talk you into LARPing with him yet?"

"Not yet.  I’ll do my best to put him off.”  He still wasn’t entirely sure what LARPing was, and Gold rather thought he preferred it that way.

“You might enjoy it.”  Belle threw a wink at him over her shoulder.  "And I’d enjoy seeing you in costume."

"Costume?”  Hopefully, she was joking.

“You’d look _hot_ in tight leather pants and knee high boots.”  Belle licked her lips at the idea, making him swallow hard.

“So would you,” he croaked, regretting the statement almost immediately.

Her smile told him that he hadn’t offended her.  "Remember that when Jefferson asks you to join us."

If LARPing involved seeing Belle in leather pants, Gold might be interested after all.  "I’ll do that.”

By this time, Belle had put everything away save for her toiletry bag, so Gold escorted her into the bathroom to open his medicine cabinet for her.  Not sure what else to do, he lingered, watching as she shelved a variety of fascinating little bottles.  "What is all that?"

"Things to make me pretty.”  Her voice was airy as she straightened the line of bottles, standing them up like soldiers at attention.

“You don’t need bottles for that.”  Belle looked exquisite whether she was done up for a night out or bleary-eyed from sleep.

“Your flirting has improved dramatically.”  Satisfied with her work, she closed the medicine cabinet and blew him a kiss.

When she turned to leave the bathroom, Gold started to follow before the movement made him realize that there were consequences for what they’d done earlier: things had dried in a rather uncomfortable way.  "I believe I’ll take a quick shower."

Instead of continuing on her way, Belle stopped in the doorway.  "Is that an invitation?”

“I…”  He hadn’t intended for it to be one, but now that she’d suggested it, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.  "Do you want it to be?"

Belle bit her lip, pretending to think it over.  "I _do_ feel a little sticky…”

Dropping the act, she reached out to take his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.  "I’d like to, but if you’re not comfortable, I understand.  It’s up to you."

Considering that they’d already orgasmed together, the thought of her seeing him in the nude shouldn’t have been as intimidating as Gold found it.  Belle knew what he looked like, and she seemed to approve.  However, she hadn’t seen _that_ part of him yet, and he had no idea how he would measure up to her previous lovers, both figuratively and literally.

He looked away in an attempt to gather his thoughts, focusing on the sight of Belle’s toothbrush in the holder next to his own.  That little domestic vignette was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and the sight decided him.  If Belle could step out of her comfort zone, so could he.

Besides, he was never going to lose his virginity if he never took his pants off.

"Join me in the shower?”  Despite his resolve to be brave, his voice cracked.

Belle pretended not to notice.  "I’d love to."

Now that he’d issued the invitation, Gold had no idea what to do next, but fortunately, Belle took control of the situation.  She closed the door leading to the bedroom, making the bathroom feel even more private.  Together in this small room, they could be the only two people in the universe.

Holding his gaze, she stepped closer and took hold of his open shirt, slowly pushing it off his shoulders.  Gold sighed as she undressed him, letting his eyes stray to Belle’s chest so he could admire the swell of her breasts through her lacy bra.

"Like what you see?” she asked, although from her sultry tone, she already knew the answer to that question.

“You’re _so_ beautiful.”  He wanted to compose a sonnet in tribute to her exquisite form, but poetry was beyond him right now.

“So are you.”  Once she’d rid him of his shirt, she traced her fingers over his bare chest, playing with the scattering of hair before drawing little circles around his nipples.

Gold caught his breath at the sensation, making her smile.  "Can I see the rest of you?"

He nodded dumbly, too charmed by her question to consider being nervous as she unfastened his belt and undid his trousers.  Before he had time to reconsider, Belle let go, and his trousers dropped to the ground to puddle around his ankles, leaving him standing in front of her in nothing but boxers showing evidence of his earlier release.

"Hold onto me,” Belle encouraged as she coaxed him to step out of his discarded trousers.

Face flaming, Gold did as she asked, keeping his eyes focused on the far wall of the bathroom so he wouldn’t have to see her reaction to his body.  

“Lovely.”  When he stepped forward, Belle pressed herself against him, reaching down to take hold of his ass with both hands and squeeze.

When he yelped in surprise, she kissed his throat.  "Don’t you want to undress me?"

"Ah…” There had to be a trap in her words, but when she stepped back and guided his hand to the fastening of her skirt, he stopped trying to find it.  

He meant to go slowly, but his fingers were shaking so badly that by the time he got her skirt undone, he lost his grip on it, causing it to slip down over her hips to the floor while his hand remained on her bare waist.  Gold kept his gaze on her skirt, not daring to look at the skin he’d revealed.

“Look at me, Nachton,” she urged.

He had no choice but to do as she asked.  The moment Gold allowed himself to look at her, his knees went weak, and only his grip on her waist kept him standing as he stared, his eyes seeking to memorize every dip and curve of her body from her pearly pink toenails to the delicious indent of her navel to the tiny scattering of freckles on her shoulders.  She was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen, and she was smiling at him as though his dumbfounded silence was the best compliment she’d ever received.

When she reached down to take hold of his hand, Gold flinched back, but instead of telling him not to touch her, Belle guided his hand to the place between her breasts where his fingers found a tiny clasp.  "Keep going."

He’d never done this, but after years of making intricate repairs, his fingers were clever enough to figure out the trick on their own.  With a twist and a flick, the bra fell open, and Belle shrugged it off easily as he stared at her breasts, torn between the desire to fall to his knees and bury his face in them and the need to simply stand rooted to the spot and marvel at her for the rest of his life.  Although this wasn’t the first time he’d seen her bare breasts, he was every bit as awestruck as he’d been that first night, and he couldn’t imagine his reaction changing even if he saw her nude every day for the next thirty years.  Belle was a work of art, and he would never get tired of admiring her.

"My turn,” Belle murmured, and he barely noticed as she took hold of the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down, leaving him bare as the day he was born.

When he finally managed to tear his gaze away from her breasts, Belle’s eyes were dark, and he felt his face heat when he realized what she was looking at.  "Is it… am I…?"

Gold glanced down, trying to see himself through her eyes.  He was half-hard just from looking at her, his trepidation apparently not communicating itself to his cock because it only hardened more as Belle gazed at him, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

"Are you…?” she prompted without looking away.

“Sufficient?”  There was nothing aesthetically pleasing about the male body, and his was no exception, but in matters like this, aesthetics didn’t matter.  Size did, and Gold wasn’t sure how he compared.

At that, Belle looked up, her eyes startled.  "Sufficient?  Oh, Nachton…"

Her surprise either meant something good or something terrible, but Gold wasn’t sure which until Belle reached out and traced one finger over the underside of his cock, her light touch bringing him to full hardness as he whined high in his chest.

“You’re _perfect_ ,” she purred as she grasped his hip, looking down avidly.  "I can’t wait to find out what you taste like."

Gold whimpered, his cock surging as Belle teased him with her words.  God, he was starting to leak, and she’d barely _touched_ him.

"Shower,” Belle said urgently, but his heart was beating so loudly that he could barely hear her.

“What?”

“Let’s get in the shower.”  He nearly sobbed when she moved away from him, but all she did was turn on the shower before she returned, her hands guiding his to the lacy scrap of material that was her knickers.

Gold held his breath as he took hold of the delicate fabric and eased it down over her hips, Belle giving a wriggle to help speed the process.  Then there was pale skin and glistening curls and the hint of musk in the air, and he was going to _die_.

It wasn’t until Belle pried his fingers open that he realized he was clutching her knickers like his life depended on it.  The moment they dropped to the floor, she stepped out of them and took hold of his hands, keeping him from tripping over his own discarded boxers as she pulled him into the shower.

With his bad leg, showering could be a complicated process for Gold.  To aid him, he’d placed a teak bathing chair in the stall, and as Belle pushed him down onto it, he was grateful for its support for an entirely new reason.  While it wasn’t unusual for his leg to want to fold under him, it was usually due to his old injury, not because he was so hard he was throbbing.

He liked the change.

Belle adjusted the shower, engulfing both of them in hot mist.  Once she was satisfied, she lowered herself to her knees in front of him and put her hands on his thighs.  "I’m going to go down on you.  Are you okay with that?"

"Fuck,” Gold muttered, his mind shorting out.  

Her wicked smile took his breath away.  "Let’s save that for the bed.  At least for the first time."

"Belle…”  He pleaded for her mercy, not sure what that even looked like at this point.  

She gazed into his eyes.  "Do you want me to?"

” _Yes_ ,“ he hissed through gritted teeth, incapable of dissembling.  More than anything, he wanted her lips on his cock, even if it killed him.  It would be worth it.

"Just enjoy it,” she urged.  "Let yourself go.  Make noise.  Thrust.  You won’t hurt me."

She took hold of his hand, guiding it to her head, and Gold twined his fingers through her hair as she lowered her head, his eyes disbelieving what they were seeing.  Belle was leaning down, her soft pink lips _so_ close to his aching cock, and he was going to explode.

Desperately, he slammed his eyes shut, meaning that he was completely unprepared when Belle brushed a soft kiss against the head of his cock.  He _howled_ , throwing his head back to collide with the shower wall with a thud that did nothing to distract him from the sheer ecstasy of feeling the press of Belle’s lips against that intimate place.

"Nachton?  Are you okay?”  A warm hand cradled his jaw.

Gold turned his face into the caress, feverishly kissing her palm.  "Please… _please_ …"

“New rule… Do whatever you want, just don’t give yourself a concussion,” she chided gently.

He squirmed despite his attempt to stay still, his hips twitching.  If she didn’t continue, he would lose his mind.  "I’ll be careful.  Belle, _please_ …"

“Easy, sweetheart…”  She stroked his hip with her fingertips before pressing another delicate kiss against the head of his erection.

As though conscious of how close to the edge he was, Belle went slowly, her kisses as soft as the brush of a butterfly’s wing.  She was being impossibly gentle with him, yet every touch of her lips sent a jolt of white-hot pleasure through him, his entire body clenching and writhing with need.  

With her lips, she mapped every inch of his straining length, careful not to linger in one place long enough to push him over the edge.  Gold’s hips quaked, thrusting upwards involuntarily, and Belle matched his movements, staying with him so well that her lips never left his skin.  

When she reached the base of him, she nuzzled her nose against his coarse hair, and Gold smothered a shout, tears coming to his eyes.  He’d never felt so accepted— so cherished— in all of his life, and they were only beginning.  Belle was kissing his cock, giving him pleasure because she thought he deserved it, because she _wanted_ to, and he loved her so much that his heart was bursting with it.

“I love you… I love you… love you… Belle, I love you…”  He was babbling the words, saying them over and over in between frantic grunts that he couldn’t believe were coming from his throat.  He’d never felt like this, any pleasure he’d ever felt at his own hand instantly fading into nothingness in comparison to the bliss of Belle’s lips.

Then she took him into her mouth, and Gold came apart at the seams.

He was yelling nonsense, his hips bucking wildly as the orgasm overwhelmed him.  He was going up in flames, the pleasure so intense that it was almost pain, the most glorious agony he’d ever known.  Through it all, Belle stayed with him, suckling gently, and every flutter of her tongue sent another shockwave through him until he was spent and shattered, gasping like he’d survived a tsunami.

Belle gave his soft cock a final kiss before crawling into his lap, straddling him as she wrapped her arms around him.  "You taste incredible."

Gold moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily even though he had nothing left.  "You’re a goddess.”

When she covered his mouth with her own, Gold parted his lips at the brush of her tongue, inviting her in.  He could taste salt on her tongue, and his eyes rolled back in his head when he realized where that flavor had come from.

“So…”  Once she’d shared his flavor with him, Belle trailed kisses down his throat.  "Are you still a virgin?"

Her question made him chuckle, the sound hoarse and rusty.  After _that_ , it seemed ridiculous to consider himself a virgin, but if he was, there was still more deflowering for them both to look forward to.  "Yes, I am.”

Belle giggled.  "Works for me."

The echo of his own question brought another concern to the forefront of his mind.  With the small fraction of his brain that was currently operational, Gold swiftly took stock of his personality, relieved to discover he felt no urge to reduce anyone’s rent or forgive any debts.  "Even once you deflower me, I’ll still be the same contrary bastard.”

“You’d better be.  I wouldn’t be very happy if you suddenly turned into someone else just because we had sex.”  She kissed the tip of his nose.  "I like you the way you are."

"Good because you’re stuck with me.”  He’d follow her to the ends of the earth if he had to.

Belle nuzzled the corner of his mouth.  "I wouldn’t have it any other way."


	29. Chapter 29

Nachton Gold was thinking about sex.

That wasn’t unusual for him lately, which was quite a change after five decades of rarely thinking about the topic.  Then again, for five decades he hadn’t known that Belle French existed, ergo he’d had no reason to think about having sex with her.  

He chuckled to himself as he turned on the shower, giving the water time to warm.  If someone had told him six months ago that he would soon while away his hours daydreaming about sex, he would have assumed the messenger was a candidate for Storybrooke’s mental health ward.  He was an entirely different man than he’d been less than half a year ago, and the old Nachton Gold never would have been able to imagine how his life would change as a result of him opening his front door to Belle and her niece on Halloween night.

Back then, when he’d had urges, he’d taken care of them as efficiently as possible, his businesslike movements accompanied by only the most vague and abstract of carnal thoughts.  Now, it was as though a dam had broken.  Far from being vague, his imaginings were painstakingly detailed as he relived glorious moments that he’d shared with Belle or considered things they might do together in the future.  Sometimes, he thought he would be content to do nothing _except_ think about sex with Belle.

Despite the pleasure that his daydreams brought him, Gold wasn’t entirely comfortable with his new preoccupation.  Malcolm Gold had been utterly obsessed with sex, and any hint that he had traits in common with the man who’d fathered him made him feel ill.  He’d always prided himself on his strength of will in abstaining from the pleasures of the flesh, but it seemed he was every bit as susceptible as his father if his vivid imagination was anything to go by.

Since he’d spent his life abstaining from such things, Gold had no idea what a normal quota of erotic thoughts might be.  He was certainly familiar with the saying that all men had one-track minds, which seemed to indicate that a high rate of sexual thoughts was perfectly normal.  Still, he couldn’t help but have misgivings about his newest habit.  If all men thought about sex as often as he currently did, it was a wonder they ever got anything done.

As he stepped into the shower to begin his day, his cock twitched.  After what Belle had done to him with her mouth a week ago, Gold could no longer enter his own bathroom without blushing at the memories.

On another day, the way his mind immediately started to replay the memory of how beautiful she’d looked with her hair curling from the steam of the shower and the sheer ecstasy of feeling her lips against his cock might have concerned him, but today, he welcomed the distraction.  Thinking about that amazing encounter was far preferable to worrying about what the immediate future held for him.  Even worrying about his ability to return the favor was preferable to that.

In less than an hour, Belle would be arriving for breakfast, but it wasn’t desire for his company that was bringing her to the house before their workday began.  Last night, she’d called him with the news that he’d both longed for and dreaded: his DNA test results were in.

Gold had given her his blessing to go through the information, and he could only guess what kind of progress she’d made based on the series of texts she’d sent him, asking for additional details about his family tree.  He had no idea whether his biological mother had siblings or not, but he did know that his father’s only sibling had died as an infant.  His aunties belonged to the previous generation, which probably explained why he had such an affinity for the vintage.  As for his own half-siblings… he still wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

When Belle offered to come over for breakfast and share her findings with him in the privacy of his own home, Gold had jumped at the suggestion.  He couldn’t imagine that she would have found Bae so quickly, but if she had, he would need time to recover from the shock, and if she hadn’t, he would rather deal with the disappointment without having to worry about customers.

He shook his head at himself as he finished his cleaning ritual.  Even though he’d given himself _carte blanche_ to think about sex with Belle, his mind still wandered to his other worries.  There was something deeply unfair about that, especially since he knew perfectly well that later, when he was trying to balance his books, he would be able to think about nothing save for the taste of Belle’s lips.

With a sigh, he dragged himself out of the shower and set to work readying himself for the day.  After shaving, he turned his attention to the little bottles Belle claimed made her pretty.  Ever since she brought them to keep here, he’d been amusing himself by reading their labels, not quite sure why she thought she needed all of these lotions and potions to make her eyes brighter and her skin smoother.  Belle was exquisite just as she was.

He, on the other hand, could use all of the help he could get, so Gold carefully dabbed the different creams on the appropriate areas of his face, using what he hoped were the recommended ‘feather-light strokes’ to rub them in.  Leaning closer to the mirror, he examined himself, unable to see any difference in his complexion or in the depth of the lines around his eyes and mouth.  Of course, he’d been playing with the creams for less than a week, so perhaps it was too soon for miracles.  The bottles contained cosmetics, not magic elixir.

It wasn’t until he finished dressing that Gold realized he’d chosen his most severe black suit, donning his armor to protect him from whatever tidings Belle would bear today.  No suit, no matter how perfectly tailored, could protect its wearer from heartache, but he still hoped for the best as he examined his reflection in the mirror.

His mouth twisted as he took in the picture he made.  With his black suit and tie and charcoal shirt, he looked like he was preparing for a funeral, and Belle would probably have something to say about that when she arrived.  She would tease him about his Gothic sensibility, and he would make a comment about her shoes, and they would bicker playfully until she pinned him against the wall to kiss him senseless, making them both forget about things like DNA tests and long-lost siblings.

Closing his eyes, he tried to immerse himself in the fantasy, but his mind kept drifting back to the unknown.  He might be only minutes away from a way to contact Bae, and Gold wasn’t sure which would be worse: that Belle hadn’t found his boy or that she’d found him only for Bae to want nothing to do with him.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Gold made his way downstairs to the kitchen, feeling as though he was caught in a riptide.  At the moment, he was powerless to do anything to alter the flow of events, and that didn’t sit well with him.  

Since he couldn’t do anything else, he’d might as well make breakfast.

Two people didn’t really need both sausage and bacon, and they probably didn’t need either when the main dish was eggs Benedict, but once Gold started cooking he couldn’t seem to stop himself.  The more pans he had to juggle, the less time he had to think.  As he peeled apples to sauté with butter and cinnamon, he decided that Belle was going to either think he’d lost his mind or picked up a tapeworm.

A flash of movement caught his attention, and he looked up in time to see Belle approaching the kitchen door.  Catching his eye, she smiled and waved, and Gold immediately found himself trying to measure the exact curvature of her lips as a hint as to what news she was bringing him.

He left his post at the stove long enough to open the door for her, forgetting his neurotic musings at his first real look at Belle.  Although her clothes and hair were as impeccable as always, her face was pale and there were shadows under her eyes, which upon closer inspection, seemed a bit bloodshot.  "Are you all right?"

She waved off his concern in favor of dumping the laptop bag she was carrying on the kitchen table.  "I’m fine.  I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Gold watched as she pulled the laptop out and opened it, clicking away at the keyboard as she continued, “All the ads made it look really easy, but there’s a lot more to it than that.  I mean, there’s a ton of information, but you have to do a lot of detective work to put the pieces together.  Fortunately, I’ve read a lot of Sherlock Holmes.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” he urged when she paused for breath.

“Is there coffee?  I could use coffee.”  She sniffed the air.  "Is something burning?"

Gold cursed as he rushed to take the apples off the heat.  As he turned on the coffeemaker, he decided that the rest of their breakfast was as finished as it was going to get and prepared a plate for Belle as she continued to tell him about how she’d spent her night.

"It’s all about chromosomes.  Since we’re concentrating on your father’s genetics, I was able to ignore everything on your X chromosome since that’s the one you got from your mother.  That narrowed it down.  This would be more complicated if you were a woman.”  She blinked at him when he placed a plate of food in front of her.

“Did you know you have some French ancestry?  I mean you have ancestors from France; you’re not related to me.”  Belle pulled a face.  "Thankfully.  That would be a nasty surprise."

"When you say you didn’t get much sleep…” he prompted.

“I mean I didn’t get any.”  Belle confirmed his suspicions.

“Just give me the highlights, and then you can have a nap.”  If she was too tired to tease him about his funereal attire, she was too tired to put in a day’s work.  He would tuck her into bed before leaving for the shop.  

Alternately, he could tuck himself in next to her and leave the shop closed today.

Belle, as was her wont, disagreed.  "I’m not that tired.  I just need a good cup of coffee.  Anyway, I was looking for people who share twenty-five percent of your DNA.  That’s half-siblings, grandparents, nieces, nephews, aunts, and uncles.  Jefferson and I are full siblings, so we share fifty percent of our DNA.  It helps that your dad was an only child.“

Against his better judgement, Gold poured Belle a cup of coffee.  He knew his girlfriend well enough by now to know that she wasn’t going to stop until she’d passed along everything she’d learned, petty considerations like sleep be damned.  

When he put down her cup and took a seat beside her, Belle paused in her lecture and put her hand on his arm.  "I didn’t find Bae.  I’m _so_ sorry.”

She sounded like she was about to cry, and that gave Gold the strength to put on a brave face as his fragile hopes collapsed.  "I don’t know that we really expected to.  That just means he hasn’t thought to do a kit yet, right?"

Belle brightened at his display of optimism.  "Maybe he did one, but he isn’t sharing his results.  There’s a bunch of different privacy settings.  When they’re really locked down, you can look at other people, but no one can see you.  You’ll have to decide how you want to set your profile.”

His first instinct was to assume he would want the maximum amount of privacy allowed, but a moment’s thought showed Gold the error in his logic.  If he wanted Bae to find him, hiding would be counterproductive.

That was something they could decide after Belle had gotten some sleep.  "We’ll talk about it at a later date."

"I made a map.  Do you want to see it?”  Belle bit her bottom lip.

“Of my half-siblings?” he queried, hoping he’d misunderstood.  Maybe Belle was talking about having made a map of everywhere she still wanted to travel instead of implying that she’d found enough children fathered by Malcolm Gold to require her to _map_ them.

Belle nodded.

In his head, Gold said a few very bad words.  For him, this result was practically a worst-case scenario.  They hadn’t found Bae, but they’d found plenty of other people with whom he shared a quarter of his DNA.  

“How many did you find?”  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Six.”  Belle tried to smile as she picked up her coffee mug.  "That’s a nice, even number."

"Well, it’s better than sixteen.”  He felt a little queasy.

She moved to close the laptop, moving so quickly that she nearly dumped her coffee on it.  "You don’t have to look.  I know you’re only interested in Bae, but I know I didn’t find him because none of the ages are right.  I’ll just keep checking, and if anything changes, I’ll let you know."

If she stayed up all night researching this, the least he could do was show his appreciation by looking at the results.  "I want to see.”

“You don’t have to do this, Nachton.”  To prove her point, she pushed her laptop a little further away and helped herself to a bite of sausage.  "Let’s have breakfast."

Gold retrieved the laptop and opened it.  Despite Belle’s efforts to teach him, he could barely use the computer in the shop, and her laptop seemed far more sophisticated, but he refused to let his lack of competence hinder him.  At random, he pushed a few buttons.  "How do you work this thing?”

When one of the buttons made the screen turn black, he jerked his hand away, convinced that he’d wiped out all of Belle’s hard work.  His fears were quickly put to rest when she pushed another button, bringing the computer back to life.

“Let me do it.”  

He was happy to relinquish control, picking at his breakfast as Belle played with the computer in between bites of her own.  

Finally, she turned the screen so both of them could see it.  "Here."

Although Gold wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he had a half-sibling on every continent, the red dots were primarily concentrated in the United Kingdom with a scattering in the States, primarily in California of all places.  Slowly, he shook his head, concentrating on breathing steadily as he tried to accept that each of those dots represented someone who was related to him.

It was astonishing how quickly he’d gone from having no family to having too much.

He released a long breath.  "It could be worse.”

Of course, these were only the half-siblings who’d thought to test their DNA and decided to make those results public.  There could be a hundred more out there who hadn’t yet thought of doing such a thing or who weren’t curious enough about their ancestry to bother.  

“Mostly, I just know their ages and where they live,” Belle explained as she tried not to get food on the keyboard.   “Most of them have it set up that they’re only open to contact through the website.  Two of them have profiles though.”

Gold didn’t take his eyes off the screen.  "What does that mean?"

"You can see information about them— names, occupations, pictures, things like that.”

The idea of putting his information out for public consumption was an anathema to Gold, but if he wanted Bae to contact him, it would be in his best interest to make it as easy as possible for his boy.  "That’s what I want to do."

"Really?”  

“If I was looking for my father and found an assortment of half-siblings, the first thing I would do is look at their profiles.”  Anything he could do to increase the chances that Bae would reach out to him instead of one of the other random Gold siblings was worth doing.

Belle nibbled on a slice of bacon as she considered that.  "That makes sense.  I’m proud of you, Nachton.  You’re being really brave."

"I don’t feel brave.”  He felt like he was going to be sick.

“Well, you’re doing the brave thing.  Maybe the bravery will follow later.”  Belle leaned into him to offer her support.

That was the sort of idea that only made sense after a sleepless night, but he understood her perfectly.  "I hope so.“

By this time, their breakfast had gone cold, but neither one of them thought to reheat it as Belle showed him how the map worked.  "If you hover over the dots, they’ll show you what I know about each person.”

After watching him struggle with the cursor, Belle took pity on him and did it herself, starting in England.  "Male, forty-four, London."

A slight movement of the cursor brought up the next one.  "Male, forty, Liverpool.”

Gold put his hand on her wrist to halt her movement, needing a moment to internalize what he’d just learned.  "I have two younger half-brothers.  Three, actually."

"I always thought it would be fun to have a little brother or sister.”  Belle gave him an encouraging smile.  "You might like it."

"I doubt it.”  It might be different if he’d been raised with any of his half-siblings, but these people were nothing but strangers to him.

“There’s that famous positive attitude of yours.”

He tickled her wrist to punish her for teasing him.  "Next."

"The next one has a profile!”  With a few clicks, Belle brought up a webpage featuring a picture of a young woman with curly red hair.

“Merri, twenty-four,” Gold read aloud before studying the picture, looking for any resemblance between this woman’s face and his own features.

“She’s from Aberdeen, and she’s a professional archer.  How awesome is that?”  Belle looked back and forth between his face and the screen, probably searching for the same similarities that he was looking for.

“That’s wonderful.  If we annoy her, she can kill us from a comfortable distance.”  Try as he might, he could find no hint of Malcolm Gold in his half-sister’s face, which was probably something for which she was grateful.

Belle poked his side.  "Oh, stop it."

"Who’s next?”  Despite Belle’s excitement, he couldn’t muster any real interest in Merri.  

“You know, if we organized everyone by age, we could probably chart your father’s travels.”  Belle adjusted the map so that it was focused on the United States.

“Instead of following a rainbow, we’ll follow the broken hearts and bastard children to the pot of Gold.”  Even though the subject was grim, he couldn’t help but smile at his own wordplay.

A sharp tug on his tie communicated Belle’s lack of amusement at the pun.  "You are the absolute worst.  You know that, right?"

"I take pride in it.”

She tried to get them back on track.  "We know your father spent some time in the States."

He tapped the dot in Maine.  "Or his progeny moved here later like I did.”

"That’s not you.”

“Excuse me?”  He leaned closer to the screen, trying to see if he’d misread the map.

No, there was definitely a dot in Maine, and if it wasn’t him… “I have a half-sibling in this state.”

Belle hovered the cursor over the dot.  "Female.  Twenty.  Maine."

That was _far_ too close for comfort.  "Bugger.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?  For all we know, she lives in town.”  Belle glanced around the kitchen as though she expected his half-sister to jump out of a closet and announce her presence.

“I sincerely hope not.”  There was no one in Storybrooke to whom he would care to be related.

Belle took his hand and squeezed.  "You’re taking this really well.  If it was me, I think I’d lose my mind wondering if every girl I talked to was secretly my sister."

"Sharing a quarter of my DNA doesn’t make her my sister.  Can you call someone a sibling when you couldn’t pick them out of a police line up?”  With the visual representation of his half-sibling staring him in the face, Gold didn’t quite believe his own words.  He didn’t know anything about the girl behind that dot, but she wasn’t exactly a stranger either.

Fortunately, Belle didn’t press the matter.  "Fair enough.  Should we move on?"

"As quickly as possible,” he agreed, trying to forget that he’d just learned he had a half-sister living in the same state he resided in.  Lots of people lived in Maine, and he’d never met most of them.  There was no reason he should ever cross paths with this particular soul.

“The other two are in California.  All I know about this one is that he’s forty-eight, but the other one has a profile.”  With a few more clicks, Belle called up the webpage.

“Frank, forty-four.”  Despite the age difference, this time he didn’t have to strain to see the resemblance.  Like him, his half-brother had inherited Malcolm Gold’s angular bone structure.  

“He’s a baker, and his hobby is ballroom dance.”  

“He sounds insufferable.”  What kind of a hobby was ballroom dance?  His half-brother sounded like the sort of person who wouldn’t think to ask for interest when lending money.

Belle compared him to the picture on the screen.  "I can see a resemblance, but you’re better looking."

As always, she knew exactly what he needed to hear.  

All in all, this process hadn’t been as excruciating as he’d feared.  There was still more to do since they hadn’t found Bae, but that could wait until later, after Belle had gotten some sleep.

Gold closed the laptop and leaned over to kiss her temple.  "Thank you for doing this.  You make a fine detective.”

Her pleased smile told him that she appreciated the compliment even as she brushed it off.  "No problem.  Actually, it was kind of fun once I got the hang of it.  There are other companies that do DNA testing too, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to register with all of them, just in case.  And we still have to set up your profile, and—"

When Belle yawned, cutting herself off, Gold chuckled.  "And it will wait until after you’ve had a nap."

"We’ll be late for work.”

A glance at the clock told him that they were already late.  "We’re closed today."

He didn’t bother cleaning up the breakfast mess before towing Belle upstairs, convinced that if he gave her a chance to think about it, she’d find a dozen more reasons why she couldn’t possibly take a nap.  Once he nudged her into the bathroom, she acquiesced, emerging a few minutes later clad in a set of the pajamas she’d decided to keep here, her face shiny.  Quietly delighted by his success, Gold wasted no time in getting himself ready for bed, abandoning his dark colors in favor of blue pajamas that better suited his current mood.

He’d found six half-siblings, and his world hadn’t ended.  He could do this.

Belle snickered as he climbed in beside her.  "You looked like a vampire.”

With a playful growl he nipped at her throat but stopped before he could get either of them distracted.  "Get some rest."

"I’m not sleepy,” Belle yawned as she snuggled into him.  "Tell me a bedtime story."

"Once upon a time, there was a woman named Belle who stayed up all night solving a mystery for her grouch of a boyfriend, and then she took a long nap.  The end.”

“That story sucked.”

“I’ll tell you a better one once you wake up,” he bargained.  "What story do you want to hear?"

"A story about a time you touched yourself.”

The request made Gold choke.  "I’ll tell you that one later," he croaked.

Belle hummed a little as she nestled closer, her breath deepening in sleep almost immediately.

Gold, on the other hand, lay awake for a long, long time, and his new-found siblings were the furthest thing from his mind.


	30. Chapter 30

Gold woke to the sensation of a finger tracing the bridge of his nose and frowned, his sleep-fogged mind unable to immediately identify where the finger had come from.  After five decades of sleeping alone, finding another person in bed with him still came as a bit of a surprise.

The finger tickled his nose, surprising a snort out of him, and a soft giggle roused him further.  He did his best not to let his face so much as twitch, and his ruse paid off when Belle let out a squeak of surprise when he grabbed her wrist and placed a smacking kiss against her palm.  

“Good morning.”

She chuckled.  "It’s more like afternoon.  We slept the day away."

"That’s what happens when you stay up all night.”  Since she’d forgone sleep so she could track down his half-siblings, he had no right to chide her.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement.  "That’s _my_ excuse.  What’s yours?"

It was a fair question.  Unlike her, he’d gotten a full night’s sleep.  "The elderly need their rest.”

Belle tugged her hand out of his grasp to goose his side, the swift poke from her fingers driving the breath out of his lungs.  "Don’t call my boyfriend elderly."

There was something forced about her smile that took Gold aback.  Belle was trying to respond to his teasing in kind, but she couldn’t quite manage it, and he wasn’t sure why.  This wasn’t the first time they’d joked about their age difference, and it had never seemed to bother her before.

After far too long, a hypothesis finally formed in his mind.  Not long ago, Belle had demanded that he outlive her, and he’d made the promise, impossible as it was to keep.  By calling himself elderly, he was calling attention to the fact that his promise was largely meaningless.  Since he was twenty years her senior, outliving her would be difficult unless tragedy struck.

As an intelligent woman, Belle already knew all of that, but if she wanted to believe the fantasy that he could outlive her just by deciding to do so, Gold would try to do nothing to disillusion her.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "You have a boyfriend and yet you’re in bed with me?  Miss French, I’m shocked.”

As he’d hoped, his attempt to change the direction of the conversation banished some of the tension from her body.  "He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s worth it."

That might have been the nicest compliment Gold had ever received, but the nature of their game meant that he couldn’t acknowledge it.  "I may have my work cut out for me when it comes to stealing you away from him.”

The familiar sparkle returned to Belle’s eyes as she played along.  "He sets a pretty high bar— not only is he intelligent and sexy as hell, he can cook too.  What do you have to offer?"

Despite his best efforts, Gold found his face heating at her third-person description of him.  Not only did Belle find him sexy, she found him ‘sexy as hell’.  He might never recover from that.  

"I’m in the prime of life.  Virile, you might say.”  He felt a little silly describing himself thusly, but he needed Belle to forget that he’d just called himself elderly.

Her eyebrows arched.  "Virile?  You have my attention."

"And I’m quite wealthy.”

She shrugged that off.  "So am I."

He was going to be forced to get creative.  "I’ve been told that I have a fantastic ass.”

Her slow smile told him that he was on the right track.  "I _do_ like a nice ass."

"And I can be very… single-minded.”  He couldn’t bring himself to be any more explicit than that, but Gold hoped that she would take his meaning.

“That _does_ sound promising.”  

Belle looked up at him through her eyelashes.  "Which reminds me… You owe me a story."

In order to get her to nap, he’d promised her a story of her choice, and Belle had decided that she wanted him to tell her about a time that he’d touched himself.  Although he’d lain awake for quite some time thinking about the topic, now that his moment had arrived, Gold’s mind went blank.

"Ah…”

“You _do_ touch yourself, don’t you, Nachton?” she prompted, her voice sultry.

Gold shifted.  "I do.  On occasion."

Since she’d once told him directly that she _wanted_ him to think about her while he touched himself, there was no reason for him to be embarrassed about doing so, but old habits died hard.  For decades, Gold had considered it disrespectful to imagine a woman he admired in such a lewd way, and it wasn’t a conviction that was easily banished even though he knew that Belle wouldn’t be offended.

She trailed her hand over his chest in an idle caress.  "I’d like to hear about one of those occasions.”

“Belle…”  He’d promised, but he _couldn’t_.  What if his fantasies were so bizarre that they disgusted her?  What if they were so predictable that they bored her?  Gold wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

As always, she came to his rescue.  "Should I go first?"

"Oh _god_ , yes.”  He barely recognized the sound of his own voice.  There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to hear Belle talk about pleasuring herself, even if she hadn’t given him so much as a passing thought while she did.  

She nibbled on her bottom lip, indicating that she, perhaps, didn’t feel as confident as she was pretending to be, but a moment later, she met his eyes boldly.  "I imagined we were at the shop.  I was teasing you."

Although Gold had promised himself that he wouldn’t mind if Belle’s fantasy didn’t involve him, the assurance that it did sent a rush of heat through him that had him hardening before she’d even described anything beyond their normal daily interactions.

"Teasing me?  That's… out of character,” he tried to joke to break the building tension.  Her teasing was one of the things he loved best about her.  Everyone else in his life regarded him with too much fear and awe to dare poke fun at him, meaning that he’d lived for five decades without ever realizing how much he enjoyed being teased.

She tapped his nose with her finger.  "Be quiet and listen to your story."

Gold subsided at once, content to do nothing but listen to her talk and try not to disgrace himself by climaxing without either of them touching him at all.

"I can tell I’m working you up, but I don’t stop.”  Belle scooted closer, resting her head next to his so he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face.  

It was easy for him to picture the scene she was painting with her words.  She was good at frustrating and tormenting him with her wordplay until his own tongue was tied in knots.  It was a pleasure to argue with someone who could not only challenge him, but best him at his own game.

“I want to see how far I can push you until you snap.  I want to see you _break_.”  Her lips ghosted against the corner of his mouth.

Gold frowned as he tried to make sense of Belle’s story.  She’d offered to tell him about a time she’d touched herself, but daydreaming about teasing him until he lost his temper didn’t seem conducive to such an activity.  The one time she’d managed to do that, neither of them had enjoyed the experience.

She’d told him to be quiet, and he was happy to obey, relieved that he wasn’t expected to find an appropriate response to the scene that was unfolding.  Perhaps she was planning to punish him for losing his temper?  Erotic spanking was a thing, wasn’t it?  The idea of striking Belle as foreplay was unpleasant, but if she wanted to put him over her knee, he might be willing to try that for the sake of his own education.  

“You’re sweating, breathing hard, your nostrils flaring.  You’re _so_ close to losing it,” she purred.

Gold doubted that he looked his best in the throes of rage, but he was a bit nonplussed to have Belle call attention to the fact.  

For some reason, she was breathing hard too.  "I pretend that I don’t notice how on edge you are.  I tell you that I’m going to do some work and lean over the counter so that my skirt rides up, letting you see that I’m not wearing panties."

Gold choked at the sudden plot twist, his imagination happily presenting him with a mental picture of Belle’s story.  One minute they’d been sniping at each other, and now she was letting him look up her skirt.  It didn’t make any sense, unless….  

Unless he’d been picturing the wrong kind of teasing.

Oh.  

_Oh_.

He took advantage of Belle’s pause to replay the conversation in his mind, this time picturing the sort of teasing she’d intended.  Her story made considerably more sense the second time through, and Gold felt his body respond to the idea of Belle stroking and squeezing him to the point of madness in the middle of their workday.

"You spin me around and pin me against the counter.  I can feel how hard you are, pressing against me.”  Belle was nearly panting as she narrated.

“I hop up to sit on the counter and take you between my legs.  You rip my shirt open, kissing my breasts.  That’s the part where I touch my breasts and squeeze my nipples, imagining your mouth.”   She traced her hand over her breast through her pajama top to demonstrate what she was talking about.

It was only a glancing touch, but the sight of it instantly burned itself into Gold’s brain.  If hearing Belle talk about touching herself aroused him, actually _seeing_ her do it might well kill him.

“You undo your trousers and wrap your hand around yourself.  That’s when I put my hand between my legs, running my fingers all over, pretending that you’re teasing me with the head of your cock.”  She smiled dreamily at the notion.

The small part of Gold’s mind that was still functional tried to take notes on what she was saying.  If these were things that Belle fantasized about, they must be things she enjoyed, and it would behoove him to remember those things for a future point in their relationship.  

“I look at you as I reach down and squeeze your ass, and I see the exact second you lose control.  You slam into me, going so deep that my entire body shakes.  I push two fingers in, thrusting them the way that you would, going hard and fast.”  She hummed a little, tossing her head.

He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.  His head was filling with static, his cock throbbing against the thin material of his pajama pants.  Belle had thought about him doing such a thing to her.  She _wanted_ him to do such a thing to her, and even though he never would have dared dream of it, Gold suddenly wanted it too, so desperately that he thought he might die.

He was sweating, and it came as a relief when Belle tugged the covers away, her eyes immediately finding the bulge in the front of his pajama pants.  When she licked her lips, Gold groaned and clenched his fists at his sides as he struggled to control himself.

“You’re so hard,” she murmured, her eyes darkening as she reached for him.

To his combined relief and despair, she only rested her hand on his thigh.  "Show me."

"Wh- what?” he panted, barely able to understand human speech.

“Touch yourself.  I want to watch you touch yourself.”  Belle went up on her knees, never looking away from his straining length.

Gold’s neck arched at her quiet demand, grinding the back of his head into the pillow.  " _Belle_ …"

“You’re so hot, Nachton.  So sexy.  Do you need to come?  You look like you’re desperate for it.  Go ahead.  Make yourself feel good.”  Her whispered encouragement was a siren song.  

To masturbate in front of Belle was nigh-unthinkable, but her words made a dim light bulb come on in his head.  Watching her touch herself, however briefly, had been agonizingly erotic.  Impossible as it seemed, watching him touch himself might have the same effect on her.

If it would please Belle, there was nothing that Gold wouldn’t do.

With trembling hands, he pulled off his pajamas, Belle helping him when he got himself tangled up.  Then he was lying naked in front of her, and he closed his eyes, trying not to think about what he must look like.

“You’re gorgeous.  God, I love your body, Nachton.  You drive me wild.”  Belle’s voice was rough as she admired him, banishing his insecurities.

Gold opened his eyes, keeping them focused on her face as she watched him wrap his hand around himself.  When he whimpered at his own touch, Belle’s eyes darkened, her face flushing with desire, and her response emboldened him.

He was dripping with need, the extra moisture easing his way as he started to stroke, very lightly and slowly.  His toes curled at the sensation, his body already begging for release, but Belle wanted to watch, and he wanted to give her what she wanted.  

“Mmm, that’s it,” she purred.  "Oh, look at you.   _Look_ at you, Nachton."

There was so much raw desire in her voice that he nearly climaxed just from the sound of it.  Unable to hold back, Gold tightened his grip and pushed his hips up, his smooth skin sliding easily against his palm until the head of his cock emerged from his fist, leaving him gripping the shaft.

Belle watched avidly, sighing at the sight.  

"Beautiful.”  Reaching out, she brushed her fingers over the head.

Gold shouted at the touch, his back spasming as his hips bucked frantically.  Snarling curses, he clenched his teeth and went rigid, trying to hold back, but he was so desperate for release that he was nearly sobbing with need.

“Come on, sweetheart.  Don’t hold back,” Belle coaxed as she cradled his balls and squeezed lightly, urging him on.

With a broken cry, Gold stroked himself roughly, his hips moving in counterpoint to his hand.  He thrust into his fist, aware of Belle’s voice crooning to him as he groaned and shook, the gentleness of her touch soothing him as he strove for completion.

When her lips caressed his, he imploded, shouting into her mouth as he spilled himself over his fist.  He writhed like an animal against the covers as Belle’s hand covered his, encouraging him to keep stroking, prolonging the pleasure to a degree he’d never imagined possible.

Spent and shaking, he collapsed against the pillows, unable to even keep his eyes open.  Dimly, he was aware of Belle leaving the bed, but she was back before he could panic, and the feeling of soothing warmth allowed him to finally pry his eyelids up.

Belle smiled tenderly as she cleaned him with a warm cloth.  "Thank you, Nachton.  You’re incredible.  Thank you for letting me watch you."

It seemed strange for her to thank him after that shattering orgasm.  "It was my pleasure.”

She laughed at his weak riposte and tossed the damp cloth aside when she finished her self-appointed task.  She tucked herself against his side, stroking his sweaty hair.  "So, what should we do now?"

Her voice was full of affection, the question largely rhetorical, but Gold had an answer for her.  It was something that he’d been thinking about since their encounter in the shower, and now seemed like the perfect time to turn his thoughts into action.  Belle had taken him to paradise without asking anything for herself, and he wanted to pleasure her in return, not as a form of repayment, but because she deserved all of the pleasure he could possibly give her.

"I want to please you,” he rumbled, feeling as relaxed and contented as a pampered pet as she stroked him.

Belle kissed his forehead.  "You do, sweetheart."

She hadn’t understood.

Gold sought to clarify, "With my mouth.”

He’d clearly startled her because her enchanting little caresses stopped.  "You don’t have to do that, Nachton.  There’s no need to rush into anything."

"I _want_ to.”  Whining like a child asking for a treat was no way to convince her.  

Taking a deep breath, he tried again.  "I want to please you, sweetheart.  I’m actually being selfish.  There’s nothing I would like more than to taste you, to feel you climax and know that it’s because of me."

Belle’s color rose at his fervent words.  "Oh.”

For once, he seemed to have rendered her speechless, and Gold pressed his advantage.  "Will you let me?  Please?"

Wordlessly, she nodded, still blushing.  

"Thank you.”  He pressed a kiss against her cheek, feeling giddy at the prospect of pleasuring her in such an intimate way.

His own orgasm had relaxed him so completely that Gold barely felt nervous as he helped Belle remove her pajamas.  He didn’t have the slightest idea how to do this, but he was eager to learn and she had always guided him before.  With her help, he would find a way to bring her ecstasy.

Her nude body was so enticing that he took his time reaching his objective.  He lingered over her breasts, thinking about the story she’d told him earlier as he suckled at her nipples, wondering if his bad leg would allow him to bring her fantasy to life.  If she allowed him to rest some of his weight against her, he thought he could manage it.

Slowly, he kissed his way down her body, pausing to rub his face against the softness of her belly until she giggled.  Every part of her enraptured him, and even if he lived another fifty-one years, Gold knew that he would never get enough of her.

Belle twined her fingers through his hair as he found the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.  He rubbed his nose against them, loving the texture as they tickled him.  That seemed oddly appropriate for Belle.

When he settled himself between her legs, Gold puzzled over how to arrange his body.  Kneeling was untenable for him, so he stretched himself out on his stomach, his feet hanging off the end of the bed.  If anyone was watching them, they probably would have made a very undignified picture, but fortunately they were unobserved.

Once he’d gotten himself organized, Gold leaned in, pausing to just look.  Everything was pink and glistening, and his mouth went dry as he took in the folds and whorls that awaited him.  This part of Belle was beautiful, incredibly so, but it was also far more complex than he’d anticipated.

She was petting his hair, offering him comfort but no guidance, and he wasn’t quite sure what that meant.  He inhaled slowly as he considered the matter, finding a scent on the air that was both new to him and instantly beguiling.

It was the scent of Belle’s arousal, and Gold let out a soft moan as he breathed it in, wanting to fill his lungs with it.  She smelled like that because of him.  He’d aroused her.  

Hesitantly, he moved closer and nuzzled at her outer lips, assuming that starting from the outside and working his way in was a reasonable strategy.  He’d been studying his Valentine’s Day present, but its depictions of such activities were too artistic to be used as step-by-step instructions, which was unfortunate.

He had a basic understanding of this act, so Gold dipped the tip of his tongue into Belle’s folds, jerking his head back in surprise at the moisture he found.  

She withdrew her fingers from his hair to prop herself up on her elbows, looking down at him with concern.  "Nachton?  Are you okay?"

"You're… you’re wet,” he stammered.  Although in the past Belle had told him that she was wet for him, part of Gold had never quite believed her until he was confronted with explicit evidence that he did, indeed, arouse her.  Apparently, he aroused her quite a bit.

“You’re wet for _me_ ,” he continued, elaborating so she didn’t assume he had no idea how the female body worked.

“Oh, Nachton…”  She stroked her fingers over the side of his face.  "Of course I am."

As far as Gold was concerned, there was no 'of course’ about it.  That Belle desired him was a miraculous thing, not something that should be taken for granted.

He kissed her palm to thank her, then returned his attention to the task at hand.  Feeling a bit more sure of himself, he made another shallow pass with his tongue, closing his eyes to better concentrate on her flavor.

In books, he’d seen a woman’s essence compared to honey or wine or flowers, but none of those comparisons were apt.  Belle tasted like nothing he’d ever experienced before.  There was no comparison he could draw that would describe her flavor.  She tasted like Belle, nothing else.

She tasted like Belle, and that was the most wonderful thing he could imagine.

He tried to be methodical as he explored her folds, but everything was warm and wet and slippery, making it impossible for him to keep track of where he’d been.  In his head, Gold had intended to map her by listening to her noises.  He would teach himself to please her by identifying the places that made her catch her breath or moan and use what he learned to bring her to ecstasy.

Instead, he found himself lapping gracelessly at her.  A place that made her sigh the first time garnered no reaction the second, leaving him confused, but undaunted.  He was a stubborn bastard, and nothing was going to stop him from pleasing Belle.

Although she shivered and gasped, he didn’t have the slightest idea what he was doing to cause those reactions, which meant he had no idea how to make it better for her.  When he managed to find her clitoris, she shied away from a direct stroke of his tongue, but she tugged on his hair to pull him closer when he made a circle around the nub.

Delighted to have a technique that worked, Gold repeated the action, falling into a rhythm that he varied only when Belle softly voiced a request.  

"A little to the left.”

Her voice was hesitant, but she moaned loudly when he followed her direction, the sound thrilling him.  With Belle’s guidance, surely they could find their way.

“Down a little,” she requested, her voice more certain this time.

Gold did as she bade, feeling as though her orgasm was a puzzle that was being assembled.  For him, it was simple, a puzzle with five large pieces featuring primary colors.  Belle, on the other hand, was comprised of several thousand tiny pieces in subtle gradients of tone, and figuring out where each piece went was going to be a complicated process.

He could think of no better way to spend the rest of his life than in mastering the art of pleasing Belle.

Fortunately, she was willing to help him.  She alternated soft requests with words of praise that made him shiver, and when her thighs clamped around his head after he obeyed her request for 'slower but harder’, Gold felt as though he could fly.  The fine tremors of her muscles and the heat of her against his tongue urged him on.

As best he could, Gold tried to put the pieces together.  He fluttered his tongue against several key locations before darting it inside of her in a way that made his own cock twitch with longing then made circles with his tongue, around and around, until Belle stiffened.

“Right there!  Faster!”  

Her voice was urgent, and Gold’s heart leapt in his chest as he obeyed her, fluttering his tongue against the side of her clitoris as quickly as he could until Belle tensed, her fingers nearly ripping out chunks of his hair.  The pain was the most gratifying thing he’d ever felt, but it was immediately surpassed when her hips jerked, pressing her more firmly against his mouth.

Gold growled into her as he doubled his efforts, and he was rewarded by a garbled cry that might have been his name.  Scarcely able to believe what was happening, he didn’t stop as Belle trembled and groaned, and even when she finally stilled, he continued to flutter his tongue against her, his movements light and gentle.

“Get up here,” she moaned, her voice hoarse.

Gold hurried to crawl up the bed, grunting in surprise when Belle promptly yanked him down and crashed her mouth into his, her tongue plunging into his mouth.  He wouldn’t have expected her to want to kiss him after what he’d just done, but Gold was happy to have his assumption proved wrong.

He settled next to her and gathered her into his arms, stroking her sweaty hair until she pulled back to look at him with shining eyes.  "That was _incredible_."

"Yeah?”  Although he tried to sound diffident, his voice shook with excitement at her praise.

“Oh yeah.”  Beaming, she kissed him again, licking the taste of herself from his mouth.

“I appreciated your guidance.”  Although he would have been perfectly happy to spend the rest of the night exploring her, Gold was aware that Belle’s patience wasn’t infinite.

“Oh good.  I didn’t want to offend you.”  

He chuckled at the notion.  "Far from it."

She snuggled into him.  "I’ll remember that.”

“Please do.”  He licked his lips, chasing the memory of her flavor and wondering how long he should wait before requesting another attempt.

Belle’s stomach rumbled, answering the question for him.  "Someone’s hungry."

She didn’t deny it.  "Breakfast was a long time ago.  Want to make me dinner?”

“I’d be delighted.”  

Her eyes sparkled.  "Eggplant?"

Gold tickled her side.  "Only if I can have peaches for dessert.”


	31. Chapter 31

Gold looked away from the paper on the work table in front of him and gazed at the shelves lining the back room’s wall, cataloguing the trinkets that weren’t yet ready to be put on display in the front of the shop in an effort to calm his mind.  Once he felt less like snapping his pencil in half, he took a deep breath and returned his attention to the paper, hoping that the brief respite would allow him to look at it with fresh eyes.

He groaned when he realized the contents of the paper were every bit as dreadful as he’d first thought.  The second look had only emphasized just how terrible his work-in-progress truly was.

When Belle pushed through the curtain, he hastily flipped the paper onto its face to hide it from her.  Shortly after lunch, she’d banished him to the back room to go over the revisions she’d made to the plans for the library’s rebirth, but he’d barely given them a glance before turning his attention to his own project.  Considering how much success he’d had, he would have been better served to spend his time beating his head against the wall.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, her brow furrowing when she saw the plans on the opposite side of the table, clearly neglected.

“I have no objection to any of your proposed changes.”  Even though he didn’t know what those changes were, Gold was inclined to accept them blindly.  Arguing with her might be enjoyable, but Belle would get her way in the end.  Agreeing with her saved time.

“Great!”  Belle leaned down to kiss his cheek.  "I’m really excited about the water feature."

"Quite.”  Gold tried not to let his face twitch.  Whatever she had planned was going to cost a fortune both in installation and upkeep.  Anything involving water was always a nightmare, and lovely as the finished product might be, it would be wasted on Storybrooke’s residents.

“And I think the communal vegetable garden in the courtyard is going to be a big hit,” she continued as she claimed the chair next to his.

Since the library didn’t _have_ a courtyard, he was lost.  Perhaps that was one of the revisions she’d made.  If so, this was going to be the most expensive Valentine’s Day gift in the history of Maine, if not the entire world.  "Yes."

She nibbled on her bottom lip.  "I’m not sure about the children’s area though.  I’m afraid the animatronics might scare the toddlers.”

“ _What_?”  His facade cracked as he turned to stare at her in disbelief.  Water features and a courtyard were one thing, but animatronics were on another level entirely.  They were reopening a library, not designing Storybrooke’s version of Disneyland.

Belle held his gaze for a long moment before she dissolved into giggles.  "I thought I’d get you with the courtyard.  You’ve got a hell of a poker face."

Gold let out a breath as he realized she’d been teasing him.  "You were joking.”

“I was joking,” Belle confirmed before she gave his tie a sharp tug.  "Which you would _know_ if you’d looked over my revisions like you said you were going to.  What have you been doing back here?"

"Nothing,” he said before he thought about it, wishing he could take the word back as soon as he said it.  If he’d told her he was plotting how to redevelop the land the convent sat on or obsessing about Bae, Belle would have accepted the lie at face value.  Instead, he’d presented her with a mystery, and she wouldn’t rest until she solved it.

“Well, you don’t have your ledger, so you weren’t preparing to evict anyone.  And you look very calm and buttoned-up, so I didn’t catch you masturbating.”  Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she gave him a playful leer.

That suggestion made him cough.  "I was saving that for later."

A quick kiss rewarded him for playing along.  "I have to admit that I’m stumped.”

Her fingers found the paper he’d flipped over.  "May I?"

With a sigh of resignation, Gold waved his hand to grant permission for her to look.  He trusted her with everything else; he’d might as well trust her with this too.

Belle flipped over the paper and gazed down at it, her brow furrowing.  "You drew a bear.”

Embarrassment made his face heat as Gold snatched the paper out of her hand.  "It’s a sloth."

Ever since the success of her Valentine’s Day card, Grace had been drawing little pictures for him once or twice a week for her aunt to pass along.  Until today, Gold had sent her his thanks in return, but today he’d been moved to make more of an effort.  Since most of the little girl’s pictures featured sloths, he’d attempted to draw one of his own to send back to her, only to have his effort confounded by his utter lack of artistic ability.

"It’s a very nice sloth,” Belle assured him as she tried to get another look at it.

“Don’t patronize me.”  With one hand, he crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it at the trashcan, his shot going wide.

“Nachton!”  Belle jumped up to retrieve the wadded paper ball, careful to keep it out of his reach as she smoothed it back out.

“I think it’s a good drawing.”  Her overly patient tone made her sound like a teacher soothing a fractious child.

Gold folded his arms across his chest, feeling a bit like a toddler.  "It didn’t turn out right."

Even her assumption that he’d drawn a bear was overly generous.  He’d spent thirty minutes on his sketch and ended up with a blob that had been erased and redrawn so many times that it could have been a picture of any animal from an aardvark to a zebu.

Belle gave the picture a long look and winced.  "It might not be entirely fridge-ready.”

The mental image of her displaying his artwork on her refrigerator like his gallery of Grace’s drawings made Gold snort a sudden laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation finally impressing itself on him.  He was in a snit over a drawing of a sloth.  Even for him, that was petty.

“Perhaps it’s not the end of the world,” he allowed.

“You have other talents.”  Belle folded the drawing and tucked it into her pocket before reclaiming her seat next to him.  "What brought that on, anyway?  Did you just have a creative urge?"

Briefly, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be the sort of man who spent his free time painting landscapes or sketching bowls of fruit.  Once, Belle had guessed he had such an artistic bent, and he’d enjoyed disillusioning her.  Now, he wondered if it was possible he had some kind of latent talent hidden away inside of him.

If so, it was very well-hidden.  Belle was right: his talents lay in other areas.

"It was meant to be for Grace.  I enjoy the drawings she sends me, and I thought it might be nice to return the favor.”  

Belle smiled at his explanation, her eyes going glassy.  "That’s really sweet."

When she leaned her head against his shoulder, he put his arm around her and nuzzled her hair.  "Sadly, I don’t have your niece’s talent.”

She patted his leg.  "Most people don’t."

He’d been outdone by an eight-year-old, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind too much.  It was fun to imagine a world where he exercised his artistic gifts, but that wasn’t his reality.  Fortunately, his reality was well-nigh perfect as it was.

Unbidden, the thought of him sketching Belle as she sprawled nude in front of a roaring fire appeared in his mind, the image making him catch his breath.  Then again, the finished product would probably end up being a contorted stick figure, so perhaps it would be better not to attempt that particular daydream.

"How is she enjoying her art classes?” he asked to distract himself from the thought of Belle’s naked body.

“She _loves_ them.  And I think she might be making friends.”  The hope in her voice made Gold’s chest ache.  He wanted to give her everything she could possibly want, but he was powerless when it came to what she wanted most: friends for Grace.

“That’s wonderful.  And… the girls at school?”  He hesitated to ask the question, not wanting to distress her if the matter was still unresolved, but this was something that was important to her, and he couldn’t support her if he didn’t know what was going on.

“Still mean.”  She sighed in frustration.

“If you give me names, I can have eviction notices drawn up by the end of the day.”  Belle would probably assume he was joking, but he couldn’t think of anything else he could do.

To his surprise, she seemed to consider his offer.  "It’s tempting."

"Or I could just do some subtle terrorizing.”  He lacked conventional artistic talent, but the art of the threat he understood.

Belle nudged him.  "You don’t do subtle."

He looked down at her in surprise.  "Of course I do.  I excel at the understated threat.”

“Understated?” she repeated in disbelief.  "Nachton, you’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer."

"That is grossly unfair.”  He couldn’t help but feel a bit offended by her dismissal.  Belle could tease him about any other topic, but his ability to convince other people he was capable of making their lives a living hell was sacrosanct.

If she noticed he was nettled, she chose to ignore it, instead doubling down on her position.  "It’s completely fair.  You don’t believe in subtle.  You believe in putting the fear of Gold into people.  Glaring a hole into someone’s soul while silently promising retribution if you don’t get what you want is about as overt as it gets."

Her speech soothed his injured pride.  Belle wasn’t doubting his ability; they just had different definitions of what a subtle threat should be.  "It’s subtle because I don’t usually tell them what form the retribution will take.”

Over the years, he’d learned that silence was an excellent threat.  People could fill in the blanks with their worst fear for themselves, sparing him the effort.

Belle tickled his side, then slipped her hand under the waistband of his trousers to repeat the action on his bare skin.  "We’ll agree to disagree."

Gold’s eyes fluttered as her nails lightly scraped his skin, but Belle withdrew her hand instead of acting on the fantasy she’d described about teasing him to the breaking point.  The disappointment nearly choked him.

"Was there a reason you came back here?” he demanded, his voice acerbic.  If he didn’t grouch at her, he would end up pouting at the loss of her touch.

“Actually, there was.”  Belle ignored his surly tone.  "You have a message."

"I’ll call them back later.”  He was in no mood to make a deal right now.  If he couldn’t lose himself in Belle, he still had a drawing to produce for Grace and library plans to review.

“A message through the DNA site,” she clarified.

When he went still, Belle took his hand and squeezed.  "It’s from Frank.  We didn’t really talk about how to handle messages.  If you don’t want to read it, I can read it and give you the gist, or I can just delete it since you’re only interested in Bae.  It’s up to you.  And you don’t have to decide now.  It’s not going anywhere."

Her thumb made circles on the back of his hand as she gave him a reassuring smile.  Gold focused on that small touch, her news driving every thought out of his head save for one: he had a brother, and that brother was trying to contact him.

A half-brother, he corrected after a moment.  The person who sent him that message was a stranger to him, connected only by some shared genetics thanks to Malcolm Gold’s insatiable lust.  They weren’t family, not really.  They weren’t anything.

"Do you have an opinion?”  Just now, he thought he might welcome Belle’s oft-irritating tendency to tell him what he should be doing.  If she made the decision, he wouldn’t have to.  Besides, she was usually right, although he would never give her the satisfaction of telling her that.

She smiled wryly.  "I _always_ have an opinion."

"I should have known better than to ask.”  He adjusted his grip on her hand to lace their fingers together as he waited for her to share that opinion with him.

When Belle remained silent, he gave her a nudge to prompt her, but she only squeezed his hand again.  "This is _your_ family we’re talking about.  It has to be your choice.  I can’t tell you what to be comfortable with."

"Hell,” he muttered.  "Of all times for you to decide not to be bossy."

She snickered at his complaint.  "I’m not bossy.  I just know best.”

Gold refused to rise to the bait.  Given Belle’s habit of being right, the evidence was on her side anyway.

So, what would Belle do in this situation?  If she wouldn’t tell him, he would have to guess, but it wasn’t difficult to do.  His girlfriend was as curious as a cat and as brave as a lion.  If the message was for her, she would have already read it three times over.

She was probably squirming with curiosity right now, but she was careful not to let it show.  Although Gold didn’t share her fascination with the possibility of gaining a sibling, he would probably be wise to follow the advice she’d once given him.  If he did the brave thing, perhaps the bravery would follow.

“Let’s read it together.”  If Frank was a carbon copy of their shared father, having her beside him would ease the blow.  Although, when he thought about it logically, there was really nothing to be afraid of.  How much damage could someone really inflict over the internet?

“Do you want to do it now or later tonight or–?”

“Now.”  Waiting would do nothing but give him time to talk himself out of it.

Fortunately, she seemed to understand.  "I’ll lock the shop and get my computer."

She kissed his cheek before darting out of the room, returning moments later with her laptop in hand.  When she deposited it on the table in front of Gold, he pulled her down onto his lap, too distracted by the sense of impending doom to even enjoy having her so close.

"Tell me when you’re ready.”  

He was never going to be ready, but there was no time like the present.  "I’m ready."

She opened the message and magnified it so both of them could easily read the screen.  Instinctively, Gold ducked a little lower as she did, disgusted with himself when he realized he was using her as a human shield.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to stop hiding behind Belle and allowed himself to read the first sentence.   _"This probably sounds like something out of a movie, but I think I’m your half-brother.”_

“Well, _obviously_ ,” he retorted, briefly forgetting that Frank couldn’t hear him.

Instead of pressing for any information Gold might have about their shared father, Frank instead provided a brief overview of his life, sharing that he was a widower who’d discovered a passion for ballroom dance after his wife’s death and talking a bit about his bakery in California.  The DNA kit had been a birthday gift from his girlfriend, a fellow dancer, and he’d been startled to discover that he had several half-siblings, of which Gold was one.

He ended by expressing his hope that he and Gold could become friends, leaving Gold staring blankly at the computer screen.  

“He seems very sweet,” Belle said after giving him a few minutes to digest the message.

Gold wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but Frank the ballroom dancing baker was _not_ it.  Despite their similar appearances, the two of them couldn’t be more different if they’d been born on two separate planets.  There wasn’t a trace of Malcolm Gold anywhere in him that Gold could see.  Far from being a clone of their father, Frank seemed to be as cruel and ruthless as a butterfly.

“I refuse to believe that we’re related.”

Belle glanced back over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide.  "Why not?"

Gold waved a hand at the computer screen.  "He’s too… nice.”

Laughing, she leaned back against his chest.  "I doubt that one email is enough to reveal his entire character."

"I couldn’t craft a message that innocuous if I tried for a week.”  No matter how hard he tried to be completely inoffensive, his sharp edges would still manage to slip through and reveal themselves.

“Let’s say that you’re right.”  From the tone of her voice, Belle thought that was unlikely.  "For argument’s sake, let’s say that Frank is a total cream puff.  He’s a genuinely nice, kind man without a hint of a dark side.  What’s wrong with that?"

Complaining that someone was too nice was probably asinine, but Gold couldn’t help it.  "We’ll have nothing in common and therefore nothing to talk about.”

“You’re impossible.”  Belle twisted on his lap to look at him more directly, her arms sliding around his waist so her fingers could pick at the back of his shirt.

“If he’s that nice, he’ll be forced to disapprove of me.”  Frank might not appreciate learning how acerbic his newfound half-brother could be.

“ _I’m_ nice, and _I_ approve of you.”

“You’re not that nice.”  Although it didn’t happen often, Belle could be as manipulative and vindictive as he could be.  It was one of the things he loved about her.

She regarded him with amusement.  "If anyone else said that to me, I would think it was an insult."

"Nothing could be further from the truth,” he assured her.

“I know.”  She rested her head against his shoulder.  "Frank’s going to think we’re nuts."

He pulled her a little closer.  "What are we going to say to him?”

“What do you _want_ to say?” she countered.

Gold hadn’t realized he’d decided to answer his half-brother until that instant, but it was too late to back out now.  "I suppose I’ll respond in kind— tell him about my work and how I came to do the kit, things like that."

Taking a moment, he reread the email to verify that Frank hadn’t expressed too much of an interest in learning how their family tree fit together.  "There’s no need for too much detail.  He doesn’t need to know about Bae or about our father.”

Belle lifted her head.  "You’re not going to tell him about Malcolm?"

Since Frank hadn’t asked, he wasn’t really withholding information.  "I’ll mention that I suspected I might have a half-sibling or two.  I have no intention of sharing everything with him.”

If he told Frank everything about Malcolm, Frank could pass that information along.  If Bae went looking for his father and was able to learn everything there was to know from another source, he would have no reason to search out Gold.

Belle nodded her agreement.  "It’s probably not a bad idea to keep some cards close to your chest.  For all we know, the friendly neighborhood baker thing is just an act.  He could be a serial killer."

The thought of being related to a serial killer sparked a far higher degree of interest in Gold than he’d mustered for Frank up until this point.  It was possible that something was wrong with him.

Reaching around Belle, he put his hands on the keyboard to type a response. _"Have no fear that I was surprised by your message.  I have long suspected the existence of a half-sibling.”_

Given his inexperience with computers in general and Belle’s laptop specifically, it took him several minutes to laboriously type those two sentences using only his index fingers to find the correct letters.  It was odd to think that he could text far more efficiently than he could type.

Using her elbows, Belle pushed his arms away.  "Nachton, I swear my head is going to explode if I have to watch you hunt and peck.  You dictate; I’ll type."

Chuckling, he jostled her.  "You’ll be my secretary?  All right then, take a letter, Miss French.”

She giggled.  "Taking dictation on your knee?  I’m not that kind of a secretary, Mr. Gold."

"Aren’t you?”  Daringly, Gold slid his hand under the hem of her skirt to caress her knee, delighted when she didn’t slap him away even in play.

“Maybe we can make a deal.”  She wriggled on his lap, distracting him.  "If you give me a raise, I’ll give _you_ one too."

The pressure of her behind against his groin made him groan as much as the dreadful pun.  "I’ll have to see if you’re worth your keep first.”

He said the words simply to say something to keep the game going, and Gold didn’t realize how dreadful they sounded until Belle went utterly still.  Wincing as he mentally replayed the crude comment, he wondered how to apologize for implying she was nothing more than a sex object whose favors were for sale to the highest bidder.

“I…”

Before he could get more than the first word out, Belle somehow managed to pivot on his lap so that she was straddling him, her mouth colliding with his.  Her tongue plunged into his open mouth, and Gold was too shocked to do more than allow her to ravage him, her lips feverishly hot against his own.

Gasping, Belle pulled back, her eyes dark.  "We have _got_ to role play more often."

"I thought I offended you.”  To Gold’s shock, it seemed that his lewd comment had had exactly the opposite effect, and he had no idea what to make of that.

“It’s just a game, Nachton,” she explained patiently.

At his baffled look, Belle tried again, “Look, if you said something like that to me when I started working for you, it would have been super offensive, and I would have quit.  But in this context, it’s different.  I mean, it’s not like you’re serious.  Things I wouldn’t want in real life can be _really_ hot when we’re both pretending.”

The idea that it might be enjoyable for Belle to be spoken to disrespectfully was difficult for Gold to process, but he’d just seen fairly definitive proof that, under the right circumstances, she _did_ enjoy it.  It wasn’t an entirely comfortable thought.

Belle nibbled on her bottom lip.  "I guess it’s hot because I trust you.  I know you’re not going to take advantage or do anything I don’t want, so I can sort of get lost in the fantasy."

"Oh.”  When she put it like that, he felt a little better about the idea.  Perhaps it was a bit like literature.  He could enjoy reading about things he would never want to experience.  This was just more… interactive.

“We’ll ease into it,” she promised him.  "It’s probably still a little early to play naughty secretary."

Her dimpled grin made him smile helplessly in response.  "We could start smaller.  Naughty pawnbroker?”

He had no idea what that game might look like, but Belle’s smile grew wolfish in response, telling him that she had a few ideas.  "I can work with that."

She leaned in for a lingering kiss before turning back to the computer.  Gold rested his chin on her shoulder, ostensibly to better see the screen, but mostly so he could nuzzle her neck.  "I look forward to learning how to play.”

The sound of her soft giggle assured him that he would enjoy the game.


End file.
